


Trees

by allylikethecat



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin - Freeform, M/M, Past Relationship(s), domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 67,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7249762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allylikethecat/pseuds/allylikethecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't what it looked like.</p><p>Not that Jamie believed him. Not that anyone believed him.</p><p>Tyler couldn't remember ever feeling so alone.</p><p>It was funny though, Tyler wasn't really alone. He wouldn't be again for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: It has been brought to my attention that the lack of tags featured in this story can cause distress. However, including such tags would give away a major spoiler for the story. Therefore, if you have any concerns about the content of this story, please see the end notes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time ever posting a story about anything so I hope I'm doing all this right.
> 
> I'll add more tags and warnings as the story progresses.
> 
> There is mention to Patrick Kane even though he doesn't actually appear in the text.
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people (I'm supposed to include that still right?), nothing that happens in this is real, and I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> There is also a lot of hand waving and just go with it regarding game and practice schedules. I had to do what I had to do to make my story's time line work. So, I'm sorry if that bothers anyone.
> 
> I had a few friends proof read this but overall all mistakes are my own and I'm super sorry for the most likely over use of commas and random typos.
> 
> Ah, enjoy and thanks for clicking on this story, I hope you're having a wonderful day :)
> 
> EDIT: It has been brought to my attention that the lack of tags featured in this story can cause distress. However, including such tags would give away a major spoiler for the story. Therefore, if you have any concerns about the content of this story, please see the end notes that are linked in the first chapter!

Tyler was sitting on the bed, curled up as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible when Patrick walked into their shared room. He was scowling at his laptop with his headphones on; the shiny red Beats a sharp contrast to Tyler’s almost gray-tinged skin and the dark circles under his eyes. He seemed to turn even further into himself when he saw Patrick, looking up at the thud the door made when it closed. Tyler rubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his oversized hoodie, and before he shut off his laptop and took off his headphones, he said a hasty goodbye to whomever he was evidently video chatting with. 

He offered up a weak smile, and Patrick was struck by just how young Tyler looked. It was a harsh reminder that he was only twenty-three years old. If it weren’t for hockey he would just now be graduating college, looking for a job, and confronting the real world for the first time instead of being thrust into it when he was eighteen. 

“How was the bar?” he asked, shifting his weight, and drawing the blankets up closer to his body. Patrick shrugged, hating how sad Tyler looked, how young he was. 

“It was fine, nothing special, like every other time we’ve gone out,” Patrick replied, wincing after he spoke. Tyler hadn’t gone out much with the team the past few weeks. His presence wasn’t wanted on the rare chance he was even invited. He draped his suit jacket on the back of the desk chair by his bed and loosened his tie before unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Still nice,” reiterated Tyler, his voice sounding wrecked even if Patrick could tell he was trying to hide it. His heart ached. He wished there was a way he could fix it. No one deserved this, least of all Tyler. He hadn’t done anything wrong despite what the rest of their team believed. 

“It was okay,” he said, tugging on a worn old Blackhawks tee shirt to sleep in. He may be a Star now, but the Hawks would always hold a special place in his heart. “What did you get up to?” he asked.

Tyler shrugged. “Nothing really, Skyped a friend. He’s sick so he had a night off at home.” 

Patrick wondered who the friend was, but he also knew that it wasn’t his place to ask. 

“Sounds solid,” he said, making his way into the bathroom to brush his teeth and piss before he went to sleep. Tyler made a humming noise in the back of his throat. He didn’t bother to ask about the light, just turned it off when he was done, and crawled into bed. He knew that Tyler was only still awake to spare the discomfort of Patrick stumbling blindly in the dark when he got back. 

It was one of the first things he picked up after he had been reassigned as Tyler’s road roommate. Or rather, he had volunteered when no one else had offered; Tyler had stood off to the side after the team meeting, looking like he was going to cry, and like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He now spent every moment of their new rooming situation trying not to inconvenience Patrick, while Patrick actively fought to make sure Tyler knew he didn’t hate him and that it was his room too.

“Night Shooter,” Tyler said so softly that Patrick almost didn’t hear him, as he fired off one last goodnight text to Abby. 

“Night Ty,” Patrick replied, before letting himself drift into slumber. 

 

Patrick woke up to his alarm beeping aggressively from the nightstand. He groped around blindly and managed to turn it off, morning light streaming into the room. However, he still turned on the bedside light, instantly brightening up the room. He sat up and ran a hand through his messy hair, glancing over to make sure Tyler was awake, but the younger man’s bed was empty with the blankets thrown to the side as if he had made a hasty exit. 

“Tyler?” he called out, part confused and part worried, his voice heavy with sleep as his mind raced to every worst-case scenario. He didn’t think that anyone on their team would actively harm Tyler, and that even if someone would Patrick doubted that he would have been able to sleep through it. He hoped Tyler hadn’t run away or something. Things would be even harder for him when he returned if that was the case. 

However, Patrick heard a pathetic sounding groan coming from the bathroom, the door ajar. He rolled out of bed and padded across the small room, his mind waking faster than usual as his parental instincts kicked in. 

Tyler was curled around the toilet on the bathroom floor, his cheek resting against he toilet seat. He looked small, hunched in an oversized black Stars hoodie and baggy gray sweatpants. 

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice rough with irritation from vomiting. “I’ll be out in a minute and then it’s all yours.” 

Patrick saw red as he took in the pathetic sight before him. Tyler was sick. By the looks of it he had spent half the night, or at least the early morning throwing up. He was apologizing for taking too long in the bathroom because of the ostracization and harassment from his teammates. 

“Don’t be sorry,” said Patrick. “Is there anything I can do?” He didn’t wait for Tyler to respond, just went back into the room and got him a bottle of water from the mini fridge, assuming that he was probably at the very least dehydrated. 

“I’m okay,” Tyler said, sounding anything but. He took the water that Patrick offered. Drinking a few swallows, he tried to force a smile, but it was interrupted by a heave and the wet sound of bile hitting water. 

“I’m going to get one of the trainers, I’ll be right back,” said Patrick, moving to leave before Tyler could protest. 

Patrick tugged on a pair of plaid pajama pants with the UVM logo down the side and shoved his feet into a pair of slippers. He double-checked that he had his room key before making his way down to the conference room that had been set-aside for breakfast and the team meeting. 

As he had suspected, Justin was sitting at one of the tables, chatting with Jamie and Lindy. 

“Morning Sharpy,” greeted Jamie taking a sip from the mug of coffee he was holding. Patrick didn’t even want to know how he was already showered and dressed with his hair gelled within an inch of its life. 

“Hey,” he said, running his fingers through his own hair. He had really been hoping that no one else would be down here yet. 

“Justin, would you mind coming up to the room and checking on Tyler? He’s been throwing up all morning, he couldn’t even keep some water down,” he requested, his words coming out in a rush. He was both worried about Tyler, but also didn’t want Jamie to hear what he had to say. 

Jamie heard and he snorted. “Are you sure he’s not just hung over? He does that,” he remarked, his tone malicious and condescending. Patrick had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping back. He hadn’t been on this team long enough to piss off the captain yet. He was suddenly overcome with a wave of sadness. He missed Johnny. 

“I’m sure. He didn’t go out last night.” Patrick specifically didn’t add that Jordie had told him not to come. 

Jamie still looked like he didn’t believe him, and Patrick felt the anger he constantly pushed down bubble up in his chest. He wanted to shout at Jamie, wanted to get in his face. Wanted to tell him that he was wrong. Wanted to pound it into his thick skull that Tyler hadn’t cheated on him with Patrick Kane. That even if he had, turning their entire team against him was wrong, that as a captain he shouldn’t let his personal life interfere with his play. 

He hadn’t known in the beginning what had allegedly gone down. Just that Tyler and Jamie were Tyler&Jamie and then suddenly they weren’t and all of the guys seemed to be taking Jamie’s side in whatever transpired. 

As the week went on, the level of abuse that Tyler was enduring without a word seemed to only get worse. Jordie and Jason would check him into the boards harder than necessary during practice, and he wasn’t invited out with the team anymore or included in locker room conversation. If Tyler’s presence was ever acknowledged it was to hurl verbal abuse at him. He was dragged for his drinking, for what allegedly happened in Boston, for his partying and apparently slutty behavior. 

Tyler took every word of it, and Patrick had a front row seat to watching one of the best centers in the league—one of the most charismatic and charming, one of the most genuinely happy people that Patrick had ever met—seem to decay before his eyes as he folded into himself. He lost weight, and there were permanent dark circles under his eyes. Patrick hadn’t been in Dallas long, but he knew that this wasn’t normal, and that this wasn’t okay. But he was new and he had no idea what to do about it. This was something that you brought to your captain, but he wasn’t sure what to do in the event that it was his captain leading the charge against. 

He finally managed to pry it out of Tyler, after he had ran back to the locker room to grab his sunglasses that he had left in his stall. Tyler was still in the locker room, sitting on the bench holding his tee shirt in his hands and his body appearing as if everything hurt. He had a dark bruise snaking up his side, and Patrick knew that it wasn’t from a game. 

“You okay man?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. 

“Jamie thinks I cheated on him,” he admitted,his voice wrecked. “I didn’t though, I swear, and he won’t listen to me, no one will listen to me, and they all hate me.” He exhaled sharply and looked down at his shoes, his wet hair dripping. 

Patrick’s eyes widened and he realized they were doing this now. “I’ll listen to you,” said assured Patrick, approaching the bench as if Tyler was a wild animal, skittish and injured. He sat down next to him. 

“He thinks I fucked Pat, I didn’t though, I swear, it wasn’t like that, he was just upset and we were cuddling! We used to do it all the time when we were in Biel, and I do it all the time with Brownie and Jamie doesn’t care. It doesn’t mean anything, I’m just a tactile person, and Pat was upset. He and Johnny had another fight about kids, and they were in town and I was out with my knee and we were both feeling shitty, and Jamie came in and just started yelling.” Tyler squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking out of the corners. 

Patrick realized with a start that Jamie thought that Tyler had slept with Patrick Kane. Part of him wanted to laugh. Peeks and Johnny had been married for almost four years now; there was no way that anything could have, or would have happened with the pair. 

Patrick had gone to Jamie the next day, tried to see if maybe he would listen to him, but there was no getting through to the captain. He just kept saying that he didn’t want to hear it, and that Patrick should mind his own business. 

Now Tyler was legitimately ill and Jamie was belittling him for it. It disgusted Patrick that this was how little Jamie thought of Tyler, that after two years together, that was how he treated him. 

“Why don’t I come up and take a look,” announced Justin, cutting through the tension as he stood up from the table. “We’ll want to see whether or not he’ll be able to play tonight.” 

Patrick figured that the chances of even getting Tyler upright right now were pretty low, but he didn’t want to say that out loud, especially in front of Jamie. So he just nodded and led the way up to the room.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for making it to the second chapter! 
> 
> I'll add more tags as the story progresses, still trying to keep some surprises for now! 
> 
> Patrick Kane is mentioned in passing in this chapter, however he does not actually appear in the story. 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people (I'm supposed to include that still right?), nothing that happens in this is real, and I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> A word of warning would be that Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler through out the story, and that for now at least, their interactions are not positive. 
> 
> Once again there is a lot of hand waving and just go with it regarding game and practice schedules. I had to do what I had to do to make my story's time line work. 
> 
> My wonderful friend talkingraccoon has been kind enough to proof read this for me, but if there are any mistakes that just means I probably ignored her advice, therefore all mistakes are completely my own. 
> 
> Thank you for clicking on this story and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! I also hope you're having a wonderful day/night!
> 
> EDIT: It has been brought to my attention that the lack of tags featured in this story can cause distress. However, including such tags would give away a major spoiler for the story. Therefore, if you have any concerns about the content of this story, please see the end notes that are linked in the first chapter!

Despite his claims that he was feeling better now, Tyler was still scratched from the game, and told to stay in the room. They offered to move Patrick, but he reminded them that at this point, he had already been exposed to whatever germs Seggy had so what was the point. In reality he just didn’t want the younger player to be left alone. 

They lost to the Canucks four to one. No one was in the mood to go out when they slunk back to the hotel, discouraged at the start of their two week long road trip down the west coast. Patrick was surprised to find Tyler still awake when he got back to their shared room. He insisted that he was fine now; it was probably just a touch of food poisoning, but they were airing on the side of caution lest he infect the rest of the team. However, Patrick was sure he would find Tyler sound asleep and wrapped in nearly every blanket in the room with Food Network playing on the TV like he had been when Patrick left for the game after his pregame nap. 

He wasn’t expecting Tyler to be wide-awake, sprawled shirtless on his bed, wearing a pair of leggings and nothing else. He looked significantly better than he had that morning, even if the dark circles were still present. There was a blanket tossed over his shoulders, one that Patrick knew Tyler had brought from home. It looked soft and well loved, the purple fuzzy fabric spotted with pink and yellow flowers. He was munching on a bag of Doritos, as if even drinking water hadn’t made him sick that morning. 

“Sorry about the game,” Tyler said, licking the orange off of his fingers. Patrick nodded, undressing quickly, draping his suit on the back of the chair. He wanted to go to bed, forget the game had even happened. The goal he had scored felt empty with the loss.

“Sick goal though,” he added when Patrick slipped into the bathroom. The older man was pleased that Tyler was feeling better, and that he actually seemed to be talking again instead of just sitting in the silence like he was waiting for Patrick to kick him out. 

“Thanks, you feeling better?” he asked and Tyler nodded, stretching his body like a cat, one of his hands coming to rest on his bare stomach. The sharp cut of his abs still present even with the weight he had to have lost. 

“Yeah, I think so, not sure what was up with this morning,” he said, inspecting a Dorito thoughtfully before placing it in his mouth. “I like couldn’t stop puking, it was awful, moving made me feel nauseous, but I didn’t have anything left to puke you know? I ended up falling asleep and when I woke up I was starving,” he elaborated. That’s when Patrick noticed the room service tray sitting on the desk. 

“Well, I’m happy you’re doing better,” Patrick said, crawling into his bed. Tyler was up a second later, the now empty Dorito bag joining the room service tray on the desk as he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

“Me too,” Tyler agreed, around the toothbrush in his mouth. “It was weird.” He spit and swished with water. “When I woke up I was freezing, but like everything just felt too rough against my skin.”

That explained his legging getup, thought Patrick, as he responded to Abby’s good night text. He had done a few laps around the hotel talking the game through with her, and getting the run down of her day at work as well as what was up with his girls. (Maddy got an A on her spelling test, and Sadie painted him a picture for when he got home.) There was also a minor crisis at the elementary school Abby worked at as a school nurse, she was out of sparkly Band-Aids and one of the kindergarteners was not having it. 

“Hopefully you’ll be back to normal tomorrow,” Patrick said, setting his phone on the night stand, an alarm set so that they would be able to catch their flight down to San Jose in the morning. 

“Night Sharp,” said Tyler, instead of responding to Patrick’s well wishes. 

“Good night Segsy,” Patrick said, as Tyler turned out the light. 

 

When Patrick woke up to his alarm, Tyler was again missing from his bed. He sat up worried, but he could hear the shower running, and relaxed. He double-checked the time before hitting Abby’s contact. She should be getting ready for work now, and didn’t mind having Patrick on speaker while she got dressed and did her makeup. 

“Hey babe,” she greeted, answering on the second ring, “what’s up?” Patrick smiled, happy to hear his wife’s voice. 

“Waiting for Tyler to get out of the shower,” he answered, “our flight leaves in a few hours.” She hummed, as if waiting for him to go on. 

“What’s up for real, something’s bothering you,” she said, and Patrick’s heart swelled, she knew him so well. 

“Just the Tyler stuff again,” he admitted, and Abby hummed. She had a lot of very strong opinions on how the rest of the team was treating Tyler, and even stronger ones about how she didn’t agree with the way Patrick was handling it. 

“Team still being a bag of dicks?” Abby asked and Patrick nodded, even though she couldn’t see him through the phone.

“Yeah, and he woke up sick yesterday, spent all morning puking and everyone kept making comments about how he must have been hung over. Benn even implied to the media that that was why he wasn’t playing, but the poor kid hasn’t gone out since this entire mess started,” Patrick said and Abby hummed. 

“That’s shitty,” she said at last and Patrick sighed, wishing he knew what to do.

“Yeah,” he said at last, “it’s just hard. He’s a good kid and he doesn’t deserve this, especially over something he didn’t even do. I tried to get Johnny to talk to Benn but he wouldn’t even listen to him, just told him he better keep an eye on Peeks, like what the hell? This isn’t the guy I went to Sochi with.” 

“You sound like such a dad,” noted Abby fondly and Patrick flushed, picking at a loose thread in the blanket that was covering him. 

“That a good thing?” Patrick asked, and Abby giggled. 

“Considering we have two kids plus Johnny and Peekaboo I think so,” she said, “I think you might even be adding Tyler to your broad.” 

“They just grow up so fast!” Patrick joked, his mood lifted from the brief chat with his wife as they said their goodbyes just as the water was turned off. 

Tyler exited the bathroom a few minutes later, hair dripping wet with a towel over his shoulder, black boxer briefs around his hips. He was pale and Patrick thought he looked a little green but chose not to comment as Tyler said his hello. 

Patrick showered quickly, towel-drying his hair and running a little product through it before deciding he was good to go. Reentering the room he dressed quickly in a lightweight maroon sweater and a pair of slim fit jeans. Tyler was lying on his back half on the bed in a pair of black jogger sweatpants and converse sneakers. A gray tee shirt was on the bed next to him along with an oversized BU sweatshirt, but currently his chest was bare. 

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to wear that on the plane?” 

Tyler grumbled. “Fuck off.” He lifted an arm so that one was covering his eyes, his other hand splayed across his stomach. “My skin still feels bad,” he said, his words slightly muffled from the angle of his arm. 

Patrick hummed but didn’t comment, instead sitting down on the edge of his bed to tie his shoes. 

“Don’t know how to help you man,” Patrick teased, “You’re going to have to put a shirt on if you want to get on the plane, that sweatshirt too if you don’t want to get sick, it’s a little chilly this morning.” 

Tyler removed his arm from his face and turned to look at Patrick. “Was that your dad voice you just used on me?” Tyler asked, sounding both in awe and a little horrified.

Patrick cackled. “Dude, I was drafted when you were nine years old. You were still playing kids hockey.” The awe on Tyler’s face was replaced with pure horror. 

“You’re old,” he said at last, finally finding a comeback even if it was an incredibly weak one. Patrick just laughed harder. 

“Abby thinks I’m trying to adopt you,” he said, finished with his shoes, now tossing a few stray items into his suitcase and rehanging his suit in its bag. 

“Are you?” Tyler asked, suddenly sounding very young. Patrick turned to look at him and realized that Tyler had never had that, never had an older player to look out for him before. Johnny had Seabs and Peeks had him. But Tyler was sent to Boston at eighteen and made friends with Brad Marchand where the two enabled each other more than anything else. Then he was sent to Dallas where he ended up in a serious committed relationship with his captain at age 21, a relationship that when ended led to Tyler being left on his own with no one to turn to. 

“Yeah,” Patrick said, the mood heavy. “You need someone to keep you out of trouble, and I need someone to fund for my retirement.” Tyler grinned, the mood instantly lightened. 

“Of course, after my money you old man,” Tyler joked, sitting up. He tugged on the tee shirt that was lying next to him. He looked uncomfortable wearing it, and even though it was soft from wash and age he rubbed at his chest and winced. He pulled on the hoodie and his face scrunched up in discomfort, but he picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulders. With the knit beanie he was wearing, sweatshirt and backpack he looked like a college student. 

“You ready?” Patrick asked, and Tyler nodded, before reaching to fish his glasses out of a side pocket. He shoved them onto his face and grabbed his suitcase and the pair was off. 

By the time they reached the bus that would be taking them to the airport, the good mood that Tyler had been in that morning was gone. It happened so fast that Patrick almost felt as if he had whiplash. One second they were in the elevator, Tyler showing off a picture that his dog sitter, Haylee, had just sent him of Marshall and Cash, debating whether he should post it to his Instagram (he decided that more dog pictures were always a good idea to post on his Instragram). Patrick was telling him about the time Shooter had gotten into one of Maddy’s art sets and tracked the nontoxic paint all through the house. When suddenly the mood shifted as soon as the doors opened. Tyler seemed to curl in on himself, but there was also a fire in his eyes. He roughly yanked his suitcase, trailing it behind him, leaving Patrick behind. 

Patrick was incredibly confused as they got on the bus, but decided not to push the issue as Tyler sat down at a window seat, Patrick sliding in beside him. Tyler already had ear buds in, and was aggressively skipping tracks on his phone until he reached the song he wanted. 

He turned so that he was facing away from Patrick, his gaze firmly out the window as Jamie climbed aboard the bus, and took a seat next to Jordie. Patrick wanted to scream, wanted to slam Jamie against the bus and ask him how he could do this to Tyler. How if he loved Tyler, and he claimed he had, how could he do this. Tyler was just a kid. They were both kids, but Jamie was their captain, and this was inexcusable in Patrick’s eyes. 

Patrick wasn’t a fighter but he would drop his gloves for Tyler. As it was, he made a note to text Johnny, asking him to send Duncs after Jamie next time the Hawks played the Stars. He also considered texting Patrice Bergeron. Despite the media narrative, there weren’t any hard feelings between Tyler and the Boston players, and he’s pretty sure that Zdeno Chara would be willing to rearrange Jamie’s face, even if it wasn’t to avenge Tyler.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> I'll add more tags as the story progresses! I'm not yet finished with the first draft, so I want to be sure of the direction I end up in before committing to the tags. 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people (I'm supposed to include that still right?), nothing that happens in this is real, and I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> A word of warning would be that Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler through out the story, and that for now at least, their interactions are not positive.
> 
> Additionally, one of the characters gets day drunk in this chapter, nothing horrific happens (just feelings) but I figured I should mention that here just to be safe :) 
> 
> Let me know if there is anything else that I should have warned but missed- I'm new at this and still learning! 
> 
> As usual there is a lot of hand waving and just go with it regarding game and practice schedules. I had to do what I had to do to make my story's time line work.
> 
> My wonderful friend talkingraccoon has once again been kind enough to proof read this for me, but if there are any mistakes that just means I probably ignored her advice, therefore all mistakes are completely my own.
> 
> Thank you for clicking on this story and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! Hopefully you will continue to enjoy this story! I know I'm having a lot of fun writing it! 
> 
> Hope you're having a wonderful day/night!
> 
> EDIT: It has been brought to my attention that the lack of tags featured in this story can cause distress. However, including such tags would give away a major spoiler for the story. Therefore, if you have any concerns about the content of this story, please see the end notes that are linked in the first chapter!

They lost to the Sharks, but they won against the Kings. Next stop was the Ducks, then the Coyotes and then they would be home sweet home. They had the day off in Anaheim. Most of the team was going to Disneyland, but Patrick had opted out, feeling as if going to Disneyland without his kids was like the ultimate dad sin, and Tyler had been specifically not invited. 

Tyler was in a mood again. He had been better the night they played the Sharks, getting a goal and an assist. The bad mood was back that night and he was in bed without a word. The next morning Patrick woke up to find Tyler throwing up in the bathroom. But he just stood up and brushed his teeth when he was through, and Patrick decided not to say anything. With the mood Tyler had been in that morning, Patrick hadn’t wanted to set him off. He was better in LA, cheerful as he joked with Patrick, and texted his sisters pictures. He even got dinner with Milan Lucic after the game, reminiscing about their time in Boston. 

But Anaheim brought back the pissy Tyler and Patrick wasn’t sure what to do about it. Originally he thought that Tyler’s mood swings were in response to Jamie’s presence, but now he wasn’t sure. They hadn’t seen Jamie since they got off the bus last night, Tyler timing dinner so that their meals didn’t overlap, and his group had departed earlier that morning to head over to Disney on their day off. 

“I’m going down to the pool,” Patrick said. Tyler was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, his arms wrapped around his waist, his torso bare as he messed around on his phone. When he didn’t say anything Patrick sighed.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asked. Tyler looked up. “I’ll even get you one of those fancy adult drinks, just don’t tell your mother,” he teased and Tyler gave a half smile. Patrick mentally fist pumped, the promise of alcohol always seemed to perk hockey players up. 

“I guess,” Tyler said, pulling himself into a standing position. “Just give me a few minutes to change.” He dug through his suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later wearing black board shorts and a loose gray All Saints tank top, the sides cut low enough that Patrick could see the Stanley Cup tattoo along his rib cage. He rubbed at his chest, making a face at the way the fabric touched his skin.

He added a backwards snapback and a pair of sunglasses looping in the low neck of his tank top, drooping the collar enough that Patrick could see a single dark nipple. His phone went into his pocket, and he picked up the book that he had been reading. Devil in the White City by Erik Larson. Patrick hummed when he saw the title. Reminded again that Tyler was a lot smarter than anyone gave him credit for. 

“Ready,” he said, and followed Patrick out of the room and down to the resort pool. When they got down to the pool, they claimed two of the lounge chairs by the water. It was early enough that it wasn’t too crowded yet, especially on a weekday in early November. It was only in the seventies, which also may have contributed to the lack of crowd, but Patrick and Tyler were both Canadian. Despite living in Dallas, they still considered the seventies to be hot. 

“Nope not yet,” said Patrick when Tyler started to sit down, his tank top discarded onto the ground next to him, a pool towel rolled up to use as a pillow. He raised an eyebrow confused but Patrick just pulled a bottle of sunscreen out of the backpack he had brought down with them. Tyler rolled his eyes but didn’t complain as Patrick sprayed him with the fine mist. 

“Spin,” he said and Tyler turned, allowing Patrick to coat his back. “Can’t have you getting sun damage on all those lovely tattoos now can we?” he asked and Tyler cracked a smile. 

“I guess not,” he said, taking the bottle from Patrick so that he could spray him. When he was done he handed it back. “I think I remember someone saying they were going to buy me a grown up drink?” 

Patrick laughed and nodded. “It’s only ten am!” he tried, teasingly but Tyler just pouted playfully. Good mood activated. “I’ll be right back,” he called over his shoulder, making his way over to the Tiki Bar on the far side of the pool. 

He ordered Tyler one of the resort’s signature drinks; something called a Pink Death Wish with a request for a double shot. The bartender looked at him with concern as he mixed up the pastel concoction but Patrick tried to look innocent. There was a pineapple wedge on the side of the glass, which was bigger than he was expecting. He tried a sip as he walked back to where Tyler was reading and made a face. The thing was strong. 

“One grown up drink for a Mr. Tyler Seguin,” he chimed, handing him the monstrosity. He had gotten himself a beer. Tyler laughed when he saw the glass and the little umbrella, but took a sip happily. He looked a little surprised as he swallowed, either from the alcohol content or overly sweet flavor, Patrick wasn’t sure. He knew that Tyler was typically a beer or a coke and rum type of guy. But at least the drink had made him smile. 

They sat in silence for the next twenty minutes, Tyler reading his book, and Patrick looking over the paper. He wasn’t expecting Tyler to suck down the drink so quickly, but when he looked over the younger man was chewing on the ice. He looked relaxed in a way that Patrick hadn’t really seen him since they first met for real only four months ago. His limbs were loose, the tension that he held inside him like a tightly wound spring had melted away. Leaving him sated and relaxed. 

Patrick felt a little guilty that he had started Tyler drinking at ten thirty in the morning when their team was essentially bullying him over a drinking problem he didn’t have, but he shoved those feelings away. It was worth it if it meant that Tyler would relax for once. Even when he was in a good mood he looked as if he was a breath away from breaking down. 

“How was your grown up drink?” joked Patrick, breaking the comfortable silence. Tyler gave him an almost dopy smile.

“Not bad,” Tyler answered after swallowing the ice. He stood up and stretched. “I’m going to get a beer, want anything?” Patrick shook his head no, and watched Tyler stand up, making his way over to the bar. He smiled at a smile group of girls that were sitting in the shade nursing their own drinks. 

Tyler said something and one of the girls threw her head back in laughter. Patrick looked back down at the paper, satisfied that Segs was doing okay. He looked back up just in time to see Tyler knock back a shot before making his way back over to where Patrick was sitting, a beer held in either hand. 

“You good?” Patrick asked and Tyler nodded, sitting back down and picking up his book. He took a sip from one of the cans, setting the other down on the ground beside his tank top. 

“Yeah,” he said, adjusting his weight. He took a few more swallows from the can and adjusted his weight again. He dog-eared the page of his book that he was working on, and stretched, shifting again. He drank some more of his beer and continued to fidget. Patrick read the same sentence about fall in GDP per capita for the third time.

“You okay?” he asked Tyler again, looking over the top of his paper, hoping that maybe phrasing it differently would help. Tyler just nodded and continued to fidget. 

He finished his beer and cracked open the second one. He drank that one just as fast, finishing with a hiccup. Patrick wondered again if he had made a mistake, and judged the situation entirely wrong. Maybe Jamie was right and Tyler really did have a problem. The guilt continued to bubble up in Patrick’s chest. He tried to remember if Tyler had eaten anything at breakfast, or if he had just moved his cereal around with his spoon.

He texted Abby, telling her that it wasn’t even eleven am and that Tyler may or may not be on his way to being plastered and it was his fault. She sent back a string of laughing emojis. His wife was no help. Tyler continued to fidget and Patrick continued to pretend to read the paper. Tyler got up, looking slightly unsteady on his feet, but Patrick could have just been projecting, and made his way back to the bar. 

Patrick got up and followed him, ordering two bottles of water when Tyler ordered two more beers. 

“You sure you’re good?” he asked when they sat back down, and Tyler nodded, swallowing before giving a toothy smile. 

“I’m fine,” he said, “You don’t need to keep asking,” he added. Patrick was worried that he had caused a mood shift again, but Tyler’s tone was good-natured, he hiccuped, and finished the rest of his drink. He stretched, leaning his head back before coming to rest a hand on his stomach. He hiccuped again and groaned. 

“Sorry, I adopted you remember?” Patrick said, opening his water bottle. Even though it wasn’t disgustingly hot, the sun was making him feel dehydrated. 

Tyler made a noise in protest. He cracked his beer and took a sip, content to drink this one at a much slower pace. 

“But really, what’s up Ty,” Patrick said softly. He looked around; there was no one within earshot of them, just the group of women at the bar, and a few businessmen on the other side of the pool.

“Nothing,” Tyler said again, but his voice had no force behind it, if anything there was a faint slur. Either way, Patrick could tell he was lying the same way he did when Maddy said she had cleaned up all of her toys. 

“Then why are you pounding beer,” Patrick paused to dig his phone back out of his backpack that was open on the ground beside him, “at 11:10am?” he finished. 

Tyler shrugged, and shifted. 

“Tyler,” Patrick scolded, putting the weight of the dad-voice in his tone. 

“Because you bought me a drink, and I realized I was tired of thinking,” he admitted at last. If he had been sober his tone would have been a harsh snap, but with what was the equivalent of roughly nine drinks in, his words came out more as a sad mumble. 

“Plus, everyone thinks I’m a fucking alcoholic slut, might as well live up to their expectations,” he snapped successfully that time, anger and frustration causing his words to ring clear. 

Patrick winced, the sinking feeling coming back. Maybe he had done an even worse thing than he thought when he bought Tyler the first drink, it seemed to have had a snowballing effect. He continued to press the issue though. That was one thing that Johnny and Peeks always used to complain about. Patrick didn’t know when to stop pushing; he had half a psychology degree to prove it. 

“There’s something else though,” Patrick said, choosing his words carefully. Tyler was drunk and he didn’t want to cause a scene, didn’t want him to stalk off, adding even more fuel to the fire that Jamie had restarted in post game interviews. 

Tyler hung his head; he looked like a child accepting defeat. 

“I feel like shit,” he stated, and Patrick said a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in that Tyler wouldn’t throw up on the pool deck. 

He fidgeted in the seat, shifting his weight. “Like not just now, like all the time. Right now I feel pretty okay, but I’m drunk and that always feels okay.” Patrick let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Like I just get nauseous all time, like I either feel like I’m going to puke or I’m starving, there isn’t an in between.” Tyler said, the words tumbling out, he couldn’t stop them. “And my body just doesn’t feel right? Like my skin is just it feels too tight, and my chest hurts all the time, wearing a shirt is so uncomfortable. My pads are nearly unbearable. And I’m just all-alone, everyone hates me. I miss Jamie.” Tyler continued, looking very much like he was going to cry. 

“I don’t hate you,” Patrick said, but Tyler didn’t respond. 

“I’m scared,” he said at last. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just don’t feel right.” He ran a finger across his stomach, tracing the ridges of his abdominal muscles, still slightly visible as he slouched. “And I’m so stressed about this, and about Jamie and the rest of the guys, that it’s all I can think about and now I’m breaking out like I’m fifteen again.” He flatted his palm over the bloat from the alcohol he had consumed. His skin did look worse than usual Patrick mused, but then again stress would do that to a person.

“I thought being drunk would help,” Tyler said his words managing to come across as cynical, even when they slid together. “Thought maybe I would feel better, that it would be some kind of release, Tyler Seguin is just as much as screw up as everyone always said.” He laughed cruelly then hiccuped, followed by a groan as he pressed his palm into his stomach, just below the belly button. “But I just feel really sloshy.” 

“Here,” said Patrick, handing him the second bottle of water. Tyler frowned, but took it anyway. “It won’t help with the sloshing situation, but it will help you feel better later.” 

They sat in silence after Tyler’s confession. Patrick mulling over the words, debating whether it was rude to text Abby with everything Tyler had said right in front of him. Tyler alternated between finishing the bottle of water and the beer. 

He decided to at least tell Abby about the sad and drunk situation, he would fill her in on the details during their phone call that night. Because his wife was smarter than he was, she suggested he get Tyler to eat something. It was lunchtime anyway. 

He pulled up the address of a little taco shack that was a five minutes walk from their hotel on the beach on his phone. He kicked Tyler’s chair trying to figure out if he was awake behind his sunglasses. He jumped knocking his glasses off his face, and grumbled. 

“Let’s go lush,” he said and Tyler, blinked owlishly. 

“What?” he asked, Patrick had already shoved Tyler’s book into his backpack and was holding his tank top in one hand, his other hand held out to pull Tyler up. 

“We’re getting lunch, let’s go,” he repeated, trying to inject sunshine into his tone. He ignored the fact that Tyler was day drunk and herded him back through the hotel. He pulled on the tank top without too much complaint. Patrick almost felt bad that he was making him put it back on. They made a quick stop at the hotel lobby bathroom so that Tyler could piss before making their way out the front doors and down the street. 

Tyler only tripped on the steps twice, and he mostly smelt like sunscreen rather than alcohol so Patrick was counting the outing as a win.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> I'll add more tags as the story progresses! I'm not yet finished with the first draft, so I want to be sure of the direction I end up in before committing to the tags. 
> 
> I also don't want to spoil too much with the tags! I hope everyone enjoys the direction that this is going, and if anyone has any guesses on what that is! (I like to think I'm more clever than I actually am) 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people (I'm supposed to include that still right?), nothing that happens in this is real, and I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> A word of warning would be that Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler through out the story, and that for now at least, their interactions are not positive.
> 
> Additionally, there is a confrontation scene in this chapter that may discomfort some people, so just a warning ahead of time. It takes place at the end of the chapter. 
> 
> Let me know if you need more detail, or if there are any other warnings I may have missed- I'm new at this! 
> 
> As previously there is a lot of hand waving and just go with it regarding game and practice schedules. I had to do what I had to do to make my story's time line work.
> 
> Huge thanks to my wonderful friend talkingraccoon who has once again been kind enough to proof read this for me, but if there are any mistakes that just means I probably ignored her advice, therefore all mistakes are completely my own.
> 
> Hope you're having a wonderful day/night! Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> EDIT: It has been brought to my attention that the lack of tags featured in this story can cause distress. However, including such tags would give away a major spoiler for the story. Therefore, if you have any concerns about the content of this story, please see the end notes that are linked in the first chapter!

After lunch Tyler had passed out half curled in a ball on the bed. A hand pressed against his stomach as he complained about feeling overly full following his drunken taco binge. He woke up just as Patrick was leaving to meet Val and Spezza for dinner, and nearly knocked Patrick over in his rush to get to the bathroom where he promptly threw up. He moaned and mumbled something about the tacos not being as great the second time around, and not being worth it if they were going to give him heart burn anyway. 

Patrick left three Advil and a bottle of water on the nightstand with a smirk and was gone. Dinner with Val and Spezza wasn’t bad. They pointedly avoided the topic of Tyler and Jamie. Patrick knew that they didn’t have as strong tries to the anti-Tyler campaign as Jordie and Daddy did, but they were still doing what they thought was right and following their captains lead. He was grateful they were at least avoiding the topic, allowing dinner to be a pleasant affair. 

When Patrick came back, Tyler was once again sound asleep; he was on his back, his mouth hanging open, and what looked like dried drool in his beard. The blankets were twisted around his legs, showing off his bare torso. He was still a little bloated from the tacos and beer, an arm wrapped around his waist, as if hiding the slight imperfection. 

Patrick woke up before the alarm to the sound of the door opening. He squinted at the light pooling into the room, before the door was closed. He was surprised to see Tyler sneaking in. He looked like a teenager caught smuggling a girl into his bedroom when he realized that Patrick was awake. He was as usual shirtless; sweat dripping down his chest, his ear buds wrapped around his phone. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, not wanting to break the serenity of the room. “I couldn’t sleep so I went for a run.” Patrick mumbled something he hoped was along the lines of “good for you,” and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. 

When the alarm went off two hours later, telling Patrick it was time to get up and shower, Tyler was sound asleep on top of the cover on his bed. It looked like he had showered before changing into olive green joggers and a black tee shirt. He was even wearing his converse sneakers. 

Deciding to let him sleep a little bit longer, Patrick showered efficiently and dressed himself in jeans and a plaid button down. Deciding not to bother with his hair, he grabbed a snapback out of his suitcase and threw it on. He glanced at his phone and saw that team breakfast started in twenty minutes. 

He nudged Tyler awake, the younger man looking exhausted as he was pulled from a deep sleep. 

“Time for breakfast,” announced Patrick, and Tyler groped around for his glasses, shoving the heavy black plastic frames onto his face. He yawned and sat up. Picking up his own snapback that had been displaced sometime when he fell asleep. He looked so displeased at the idea of being awake that Patrick would have told him to go back to sleep if he didn’t know what a shit show Tyler Seguin missing team breakfast again would turn into. 

 

They made it down to breakfast a few minutes before Jamie and Jordie. Tyler had already slunk off to pee and missed their arrival. He look startled when he walked back into the room and found Jamie standing before him, but he quickly turned away, busying himself with the breakfast buffet line. He reached for the grapefruit that he ate every game day, but suddenly the very thought of eating it brought back the nausea he thought he had been done with for the morning. Deciding that the only course of action was to be adventurous, Tyler instead grabbed a few pieces of watermelon to go with his whole-wheat toast and eggs. 

He sat down by himself at the end of one of the tables, giving everyone the ability to avoid him. Sharpy was caught in a conversation with Val, meaning that Tyler would most likely be spending the meal alone. 

“Since when do you like watermelon?” Daddy asked, Tyler looked up startled, Demers hadn’t spoken directly too him in almost a month. Tyler didn’t know how to respond, suddenly realizing that his plate was mainly comprised of watermelon, and that he usually hated it with a burning passion. However today it tasted like the greatest thing that he had ever eaten. He had even been contemplating getting up and getting more. 

Before he could say anything Daddy was gone. He looked back at his watermelon and shrugged, contemplating if he had time to pee again before the meeting started, but also feeling like he was going to fall asleep in his plate. 

He must have dozed off anyway because the next thing he knew his bladder was uncomfortably full, someone was kicking his chair, and Lindy was glaring at him. He flushed and shifted uncomfortably. Looking up to see that it was Jamie who had kicked his chair and was now glaring at him.

“You can’t even pretend to be professional?” he hissed and Tyler felt tears prickling in his eyes. He was exhausted for no reason, his stomach hurt, he had to pee, and he was just so tired of everything. Even being banished from Boston hadn’t hurt as much as being shunned by his teammates. Because even though he had been sent away, he knew that Marchy, and Zee and Bergy still cared about him, and still had his back. 

He jerked away from the table, nearly tripped on his chair as he stood up and scurried to the bathroom. He didn’t want Jamie to see him cry, additionally, he was worried that if he waited any longer he would piss himself. 

He returned to the meeting, slipping in the back for the last few minutes as Lindy went over line combinations before sending them to morning skate. Sharpy sat with Val towards the middle of the bus, leaving Tyler to sit alone near the front. He felt a little car sick on the ride over to the rink, but forced himself to breathe through it, sipping slowly on the blue Gatorade he had snagged on his way out. 

When they got to the rink he was the first one off the bus. He took a few deep breaths, savoring the fresh air before going into the locker room, the first thing he did was slip into the bathroom and emptied his bladder. 

Tyler washed his hands and replaced his glasses with contacts. Then sat down at his stall and changed into his gear. As per the new usual the rest of the team ignored him as he dressed. He rubbed at the red marks his joggers had left on his hips as he pulled on his leggings and he made a face when it came time to put on his pads. Not knowing if he could stand the sensation of the foam and plastic rubbing against his nipples he dug a tight-fitting Under Armour tank top out of his bag and pulled it on. 

He hated the feeling of fabric under his chest piece, the way it made him sweat more, and made him feel trapped. But it was either the compression tank top or the pads rubbing directly against his chest and he needed to pick the lesser of the two evils. 

He barely made it through skate. He was the first person off the ice as he tore off his gear and headed into the bathroom. He had to fight back a moan of relief when he was finally able to piss. 

Sharpy came up behind him looking concerned when he reentered the main part of the locker room to finish stripping down and then shower. 

“You okay?” he asked, from his tone Tyler knew he was really asking if he was still sick. But Tyler shook his head. He may have thrown up during his run that morning, and when he was in the shower, barely able make the toilet as he slipped on his knees in the tub. It wasn’t like that this time though. He just really needed to pee. 

“Yeah, I think I just over hydrated this morning,” Tyler said, it wasn’t necessarily true, he hadn’t drank any more than usual, but Sharpy seemed to buy it. Either way, he nodded and continued stripping out of his own gear. They had another meeting and then lunch and then their pregame nap. Tyler couldn’t wait for the chance to go back to sleep. 

They won in overtime against the Ducks, no thanks to Tyler. He felt like he was playing each shift in a daze. He was hyper focused on the way the tank top he was wearing under his gear rubbed uncomfortably against his skin, and the way his bladder felt full and heavy. Like he had just drank a gallon of water even though he ran to pee during every period break. It was a pain to get his gear on and off, but the relief was worth it. 

He was taking his time in the shower; he had specifically chosen the stall all the way at the end, away from the rest of the team. He could smell someone’s body wash, he wasn’t sure whose, but the scent had made him gag. He jumped when he heard the curtain yanked to the side, and almost slipped on the soapy tiles. 

He wasn’t expecting to come face to face with Jamie. His eyes were alive with fire. Despite the hatred radiating off of him, Tyler couldn’t help but let his eyes wander up and down the planes of Jamie’s body. He felt tears well in his eyes, he missed him so much. 

Jamie crowded him against the wall, and it would have been like old times except Jamie didn’t lean in to kiss him, he was crowding in on Tyler to intimidate him. 

“What are you on?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. Any interest that Tyler’s dick had had in the situation was now gone. That was not a friendly tone. If his back wasn’t already pressing against the cold tiles of the wall, he would have taken a step back.

“What?” Tyler sputtered, confused by the question. Jamie raised his hand and Tyler flinched, subconsciously afraid that Jamie was going to hit him.  
“What are you on right now, you’re taking something, what is it?” Jamie spat, “It’s either you tell me now, and you volunteer to get yourself cleaned up, or I tell the office and they force you.” 

“I’m not,” Tyler said, tears falling freely down his cheeks, his shoulders hunched, trying to curl in on himself, trying to make himself smaller.

“That was your chance,” he said pushing away from Tyler and exited the stall, leaving the younger man to slide with his back against the wall until he was hugging his knees to his chest on the floor while he sobbed. He was still shaking even when he pulled himself together enough to exit the shower stall. He dried off quickly, and dressed even faster. His belt was done one notch looser than usual, but he tired not to think too much about it.

He trailed behind the rest of the team when they boarded the bus, and he was the last person on the plane to Arizona. One more game and he would be home.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this next chapter! Thank you so much for sticking with this story! 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, and I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> A word of warning would be that Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler through out the story, and that for now at least, their interactions are not positive.
> 
> There are also descriptions of the Tyler getting sick, while this has occurred periodically through the story, this is the first time these scenes are featured from his point of view and might bother some readers. 
> 
> Let me know if you need more detail, or if there are any other warnings I may have missed- I'm new at this!
> 
> Once again, this story features a lot hand waving and just go with it regarding game and practice schedules. I had to do what I had to do to make my story's time line work.
> 
> Big thank you to talkingraccoon who has once again been kind enough to proof read this for me, but if there are any mistakes that just means I probably ignored her advice, therefore all mistakes are completely my own.
> 
> Hope you're having a wonderful day/night! Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> It has been brought to my attention that the lack of tags featured in this story can cause distress. However, including such tags would give away a major spoiler for the story. Therefore, if you have any concerns about the content of this story, please see the end notes that are linked at the start of the first chapter!

Tyler threw himself over the boards for their line change, his skates connecting with the ice and he was off, tearing down the rink after the puck. The play was flagged and he found himself on the circle taking a faceoff in their defensive zone. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, telling him that he needed to win.

The puck was dropped and it made contact with the tape on his stick. He sent it hurling towards Jamie, who took off back down the rink with it, heading towards the goal. At the last second he sent it back to Sharpy who in turn passed it up to Tyler. He hadn’t even realized he had taken the shot when the goal buzzer sounded. Tyler threw his hands up in happiness, feeling Sharpy crash into him to celebrate. 

Jamie skated near them but didn’t engage. Tyler looked up and their eyes met. Jamie just shook his head and skated away. Their line was being swapped back out. 

There were eleven minutes left in the first period. They were down two to one. Tyler was hunched on the bench between Sharpy and Jamie, Jamie who was careful not to let their thighs touch and kept his gaze away from Tyler, focusing straight ahead.

Tyler started to fidget and Sharpy reached out, placing his head on Tyler’s knee, trying to anchor it in place and stop it from bouncing. 

“You good?” he asked and Tyler nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said, trying to still his knee. “Just a little cramp-y,” he elaborated reaching forward to grab his sports bottle and gulp down Gatorade. He hoped that the sugar and electrolytes might help to sooth his stomach. Instead he hiccuped. Jamie looked over startled by the sound. Tyler covered his mouth with his hand. He hiccuped again. Patrick had to stifle a giggle at the look of horror on Tyler’s face as he hiccuped again. The rest of the bench had noticed at this point, and was pointedly trying to avoid looking at Tyler, even though Patrick could see them smirking in amusement. 

“Penalty kill,” Lindy said, breaking the tension on the bench as Jordie was skated towards the penalty box. “Seguin, Sharp, Oduya and Johns you guys are up.” Tyler hiccuped, and put his helmet back on. 

“You going to be okay?” Sharpy asked. Tyler picked up his stick. 

“I’ll be- hic- fine-hic,” He said, following Patrick over the boards. He took off after the puck, working to keep it out of their defensive zone. 

Suddenly Tyler found himself on a breakaway; he hiccuped, a cramp wrapping its claws around his stomach. He almost fell to his knees, but pushed forward, he crossed into the Duck’s defensive zone, and lined up his shot, he faked out the goalie before sending it cleanly over his right shoulder. 

The goal buzzer sounded and instead of dropping to a celly Tyler hunched over, arms wrapped around his waist. He was almost to the bench when he hiccuped again, causing his whole body to shutter. He gagged on the excess saliva in his mouth, he tried to swallow but couldn’t. He hadn’t even processed what was happening when he found himself throwing up on the ice, right in front of the Star’s bench. He was dimly aware that Sharpy was rubbing his back as he heaved, the game halted, as both teams looked on in horror. 

Sharpy helped to guide Tyler off the ice and towards their trainer Justin when he was through. He hiccuped again as he stepped off the ice and onto the heavy rubber mats of the tunnel. Sharpy turned and skated back to the bench just as Tyler braced one hand against the wall and wrenched, the second coming to wrap around his waist. Justin placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, whispering encouragement at him. When he was through, he helped guide him back to the locker room, calling on his walkie talkie to have someone come clean up the mess.

Tyler was dimly aware that Justin was handing him a paper cup filled with ginger ale. He drank it slowly, the bubbles burning his raw throat. When he finished the cup he stripped out of his gear slower than he would have liked. He was just so tired, and his limbs felt heavy, Justin watched. Tyler paused midway through, a wave of fatigue washing over him. 

“Do you want to tell me what’s up?” Justin asked, once Tyler was down to his leggings and tank top. He needed to pee. Justin gestured for Tyler to sit up on the exam table in the visitor’s locker room. He hiccuped but obliged, the jerking motion that accompanied it jostling his bladder. He put a hand to his stomach, praying that he wouldn’t be sick again. Tyler felt heavy and woozy. He closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly. Trying to focus on his breathing.

“I think just some lingering affects of that stomach bug,” said Tyler. “Then I drank too fast and got the hiccups, then played a shift and puked.” 

He left out that he was getting the hiccups all the time now, that he was exhausted even though he had slept for twelve hours the night before, and then for three more during his pregame nap. He didn’t mention that he was getting sick all of the time. He was almost positive that it was some kind of stress response. He hoped that it would clear up once he got home, but if it didn’t it at least would when seeing Jamie didn’t feel like a blow to the chest. 

A darker part of his mind pointed out that he might be depressed. Tyler shoved that part back into the box that it belonged in labeled “things I don’t think about.” 

“You told me you had food poisoning, not a bug,” Justin pointed out, Tyler shrugged. “Plus Sharp said you mentioned stomach cramps earlier.” 

“I was wrong, I think I’m trying to shake stomach bug,” he countered, “plus I don’t think that dinner agreed with me.” He hiccuped again. He wondered if Justin would let him brush his teeth. His mouth tasted like a mix of vomit and ginger, his saliva was thick, no matter how quickly he swallowed it down there always seemed to be more. Overall it was an unpleasant sensation.

Justin looked over some notes on his chart. Tyler couldn’t tell if he believed him or not. 

“Can you take your shirt off and lie back?” he asked, “I want to make sure there isn’t any kind of further issue.”

Tyler stripped out of the tank top and lay back on the exam table. “Let me know if you feel any pain,” said Justin as his glove hands pressed against Tyler’s stomach, moving across either side of his belly button before making their way up to just under his ribcage. Tyler silently hoped that he didn’t touch his chest. His breast tissue was aching, his nipples dark, erect and irritated following the abuse from the tank top. 

Justin made a humming noise and moved his fingers back down to Tyler’s lower stomach. He pressed against Tyler’s bladder and he whimpered. Justin ignored him. “You feel a bit bloated,” he commented at last, “supports your theory about dinner, and the stomach bug. If it doesn’t resolve itself by next week we’ll do a blood panel.” 

Tyler exhaled in relief. He still needed to pee.

“I want to just get your weight real quick though,” said Justin, “make sure we don’t need to change your diet plan to make up for the lost calories.” 

Tyler climbed gingerly off the table and made his way over to the scale. He glanced down at his feet, pointedly not looking at the number when Justin hummed. 

“You’re up eight pounds,” he said, sounding slightly confused. He went back and checked his chart again, making sure that he had read it correctly. Last time he had a weigh in Tyler clocked in at 201. He was now standing at 209.4 pounds despite being sick. Figuring that it was better than him dropping the weight, Justin noted that no changed needed to be made regarding calorie intake, but recommended that Tyler try sticking to blander foods such as chicken and rice until the bug fully resolved itself. 

He told Tyler that he wasn’t going back into the game as a precaution. The second period just now starting, normally Tyler would have argued, but he was just so tired. He finally was allowed to go to the bathroom. When he returned Justin hooked him up to an IV, trying to replenish his fluids, and whatever nutrients he had lost getting sick. He also gave him another ginger ale to drink, and Tyler sipped it slowly, finding that Justin was right and it was helping to settle his stomach. The IV helping with the lightheadedness and floating feeling. Jamie scored as he watched the rest of the second period. 

After he finished the bag, Justin unhooked him and told Tyler to go shower. He fiddled with the damp tape holding a cotton ball onto the back of his hand and decided to forgo his game suit and redressed in soft jogger sweatpants and a Stars hoodie over his bare chest. The soft innards of the sweatshirt was all that he could handle against his chest right now. He then took a seat in one of the chairs in the trains room, and watched the rest of the game on the little TV, nibbling half-heartedly on a pack of sardine crackers. In a few hours he would be home.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, and I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> A word of warning would be that Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler through out the story, and that for now at least, their interactions are not positive. Let me know if you need more detail or if there are any warnings I might have missed! (See the notes in the first chapter for more information)
> 
> Big thanks to superstar talkingraccoon who has been kind enough to edit this, as well as listen to me ramble about hockey twenty-four seven. However, if there are any mistakes that just means I probably ignored her advice, therefore all mistakes are completely my own
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Tyler hoped that he would start to feel better now that they were home in Dallas, or that in the very least any discomfort would be easier to hide. They had two days off following their road trip. Luckily enough they were back to back.

Originally, when their schedule had been released, he and Jamie had debated driving out and spending a night in San Antonio, a special trip just the two of them. Tyler wondered if Jamie had ever made the reservations he had talked about. Whether he would still go, just bringing someone like Jordie or Daddy with him. 

Tyler had intended to go to the optional skate on the second day. However, that plan was quickly changed when he woke up at 2pm to Marshall and Cash whining and pawing at his back. He felt like the worst dog dad as he opened up the back door, letting the pups run around in the back yard and do their business while he filled their bowls. He wanted to take them on a walk but he had woken up feeling queasy. 

Optional skate had been at 10am; he had missed it completely, and didn’t feel even the slightest bit rested. All he had done yesterday was watch Netflix and sleep. He wondered if he was sleeping too much. 

He had a few missed texts from Sharpy; Tyler had forgotten they were supposed to get lunch. He texted back apologizing and telling him that he had overslept. He added something about next time, and Sharpy reminded him he was coming over for dinner Sunday night. Abby wanted to be included in their friendship. Tyler smiled, knowing that that meant he was going to get to spend time with Maddy and Sadie. 

Twenty minutes later his phone buzzed again and Sharpy informed him that his wife and children were abandoning him. A mother from Maddy’s school was hosting a mother’s wine night and play date hybrid. Therefore, he would be coming over to hang out and he was bringing pizza. Secretly Tyler was relieved that he wouldn’t be alone. He just hoped that Sharpy wasn’t hanging out with him out of pity. 

He made himself a piece of wheat toast and nibbled on the edges of it, he sipped on the ginger ale that he had stopped at a gas station for on his way home from the arena late Wednesday night when they had landed in Dallas. The ginger ale seemed to sooth his stomach, he no longer felt nauseous, even if he did feel bloated and gassy. He wasn’t sure how or why, when all he had eaten the day before was toast and watermelon. 

Content that his furry children were safe in the backyard, and leaving the back door open so that they could come back in when they pleased, Tyler made his way back upstairs to shower. 

He stripped out of the black boxer briefs he was wearing, frowning at the red indent the waistband had made on his hips. He spun surveying his body in the mirror. He knew he had gained a bit of weight, the cut of his abdominal muscles still present but looking less sharply defined, softer. His hips seemed wider and his ass appeared to be rounding out. He was shocked, he had been playing hockey for most of his life, and still never seemed to obtain the coveted hockey ass. His body fat had always been too low floating around three to five percent. 

His nipples were darker, and seemed perkier too. Without thinking he reached up and touched one, then winced. They were still tender. His breasts ached, the while his pectoral muscles had always been well defined, they seemed almost puffier now, each day they seemed even sorer. Tyler shoved all questions and concerns out of his mind, trying to put it back into the mental box of things he didn’t think about. His body would be back to normal soon. It was just unbalanced from the road trip and the breakup. 

He got into the shower, savoring the warmth of the spray as it rained down on his body. His stomach churned uncomfortably, and his chest hurt in particular. Overall he was sore and achy. He felt so much older than his twenty-three years. Tyler opened the bottle of his special shampoo, the peach mango one he only used when he was trying to impress someone or make himself feel better about something. However the second the scent hit him Tyler gagged and threw the bottle out of the shower. He could see the pale orange gel pooling on the floor by the toilet where it had landed, the lid still open. He would figure out how to clean it up later since he suddenly couldn’t stand the smell anymore. 

Probably reminded him of Jamie, Tyler thought, even though nearly everything did these days. He poured some of his normal mint scented shampoo into his palm and massaged it into his scalp. He had even bought this house the summer before, under the impression that Jamie would be moving in with him come January when his lease was up. 

Tyler shoved the thoughts away. Rinsed out his hair and got out of the shower. He trimmed his beard so it looked less like a bush had attacked his face and set about the challenge of getting dressed. His boxer briefs left marks on his hips, however they weren’t uncomfortable like the first two pairs of jeans he had tried on. His joggers hugged his ass more than he was comfortable with, since that seemed to be where most of the weight he had gained sat. 

He could wear sweatpants, he mused, but he wanted to wear real pants. He dug around through his closet some more. He had more clothes than he knew what to do with. He had to have something that fit comfortably. 

Finally he found a pair of black skinny jeans that were a size bigger than he usually wore and incredibly stretchy. He vaguely remembered his mom buying them for him a few summers ago when he had gotten his appendix out, they had been going to a dinner for his stepdad’s work and every thing else had either rubbed or put too much pressure on the incision. 

The jeans fit perfectly. Adding a maroon V-neck and a backwards snapback Tyler smiled to himself. He was good to go. He was still tired but suddenly buying pants that were comfortable felt like the most important thing in the world. 

He called the dogs inside, gave them each an extra treat for being such good boys and grabbed the keys to his Audi out of the bowl on the counter. 

His plan was to go to Nordstrom’s, grab a few pairs of jeans, and get back home to take a nap before Sharpy showed up with pizza. He also ended up swinging by All Saints and grabbing a pair there as well, along with a few pattered button downs, a flannel and some tank tops. Even when he felt like shit, Tyler felt no shame in admitting he liked clothes and that shopping made him feel better about the mess that was his life. 

He was on his way out of the mall, hands laden with shopping bags when he saw the CVS. He ducked into the pharmacy, scanning the shelves for a bottle of Tums, figuring he was going to need them if Sharpy was bringing pizza when something as bland as grilled chicken with brown rice had given him heart burn. 

He found the Tums easy enough; he had to pause for a minute debating flavor options before deciding that fruit was the way to go. Then he was weaving his way back to the front to pay when he saw them. Or rather, he accidentally knocked a few of the boxes off the shelf with his shopping bags, and he bent down to pick them up. Holding the cardboard in his hands Tyler swore, he could feel all the blood draining from his face, his hands shook but he found himself unable to put it back. His heart was pounding in his ears, drowning out the sound of everything around him. Everything started to click together. 

Tyler flipped his snapback around, tugging the brim down over his eyes as he made his way to the counter. He paid for his Tums and it in cash, not wanting the purchase traced back to him. If word got out it could be his biggest scandal yet. The woman working the counter looked bored as she bagged his items, not registering who was in front of her, or even what she was bagging. He added a KitKat to his purchases. He deserved it. 

As he exited the store Tyler shoved the CVS bag into his AllSaints bag and exhaled with relief. Out of sight and out of mind. Determined not to think about it, Tyler tossed his bags into the backseat. Rather than go straight home for his nap, he headed to the grocery store. He knew Sharpy was bringing pizza later that evening, but he had had to order take out watermelon yesterday due to the complete and utter lack of food in his apartment other than the bread and ginger ale he had bought at the gas station. 

He scanned the shelves pushing a shopping cart in front of him. He got two more two liters of ginger ale, for it seemed to be one of the few things he could drink that actually soothed his stomach. Going along with the ginger train of thought, he added a six-pack of an alcoholic craft ginger beer and along with 24 pack of Bud Light for that night. One of his favorite things about moving to Dallas had been that you were able to buy beer at the grocery store. 

He added a pack of chicken breasts, some more brown rice and quinoa to his cart before heading over to produce. He ended up with a whole watermelon, some baby kale, a package of cherry tomatoes and broccoli. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do with any of the vegetables; he just knew that he had to have them. Just like the package of marshmallows in his cart. He didn’t even like marshmallows, they were too sweet, but he needed to have them. 

Figuring it was time to leave before he decided he just had to have anything else, Tyler headed to the self-check out. It was almost six o’clock; Sharpy was coming over at seven. Tyler wondered if he had time to squeeze in a quick nap.

When he got back to his house, he kicked his combat boots off at the door and unloaded his purchases. He once again came face to face with the box from CVS as he dug around for the Tums, the chicken and veggies already put away. He had eaten almost the entire bag of marshmallows on the drive home and his body was not happy about it. He rubbed at his chest as he chewed a few of the tablets. 

He pointedly did not look at the box as he brought it upstairs to the master bathroom and shoved it under the sink, out of sight, out of mind. He almost gagged, the scent of the spilt shampoo hitting him full force. He grabbed a few paper towels from the linen closet in the bathroom, and threw them on top of the sticky mess. Careful to breathe through his mouth he mopped up as much of the shampoo as he could. He wrapped his wad of paper towels inside of the CVS bag and sat it by the door to bring out to the garage when he went back down stairs. Tyler sprayed a liberal amount of Febreeze around the bathroom, and then hung his new clothes up in the closet. 

He went back into the bathroom and brushed his teeth to get the chalky taste of the Tums out of his mouth. His spit was thick and coated his mouth, making his tongue feel slimly and heavy. He glanced at his phone to check the time as he headed down the stairs calling Marshall and Cash to the door as he went. Tyler had just enough time to take them around the neighborhood before Sharpy came over. They deserved a longer walk but Tyler currently didn’t have the time or the energy. He felt guilty for sleeping most of the day away, and then spending the little time he was conscious away from his boys. 

He fought back a yawn, knowing that if he lay down he would be out for the night. He sat down on the floor by the door, tugging his boots back on. Marshall came over and nosed at his stomach, Cash following suit, both of their tails wagging. 

“I missed you too,” he said, kissing the top of Marshall’s head before turning to do the same to Cash, except before he could make contact Cash lunged forward licking his face. He laughed and ruffled the dog’s ears, clipped their leashes on and headed out for their walk. He tossed the bag with the shampoo mess into the garage on the way out.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, and I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> A key point in this story is that Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler through, and for now at least, their interactions are not positive. Let me know if you need more detail or if there are any warnings I might have missed! (See the notes in the first chapter for more information)
> 
> WARNING: Patrick Kane is mentioned at length in this chapter, he is not present in the chapter, however his existence is discussed as it pertains to the story 
> 
> Additionally, mentions of pregnancy, infertility and fertility treatments are discussed in vague terms 
> 
> Thank you once again to talkingraccoon who has been kind enough to edit this, and who has even shown a bit of interest in hockey!!! (or at least the video of Tuukka Rask and the milk crate) However, if there are any mistakes that just means I probably ignored her advice, therefore all mistakes are completely my own
> 
> Enjoy! And thanks for reading!

Sharpy pulled into the drive way just as Tyler was unlocking his front door. Marshall and Cash wagged their tails happily and whined, wishing they were off leash so they could properly greet their guest. 

“Sit,” Tyler said and the pair sat obediently, “good boys,” he said, not even ashamed that Sharpy was witnessing his puppy voice as he walked up the entry way, carrying two pizza boxes, a smaller box on top that Tyler sincerely hoped contained breadsticks. 

“Look whose alive,” Sharpy said, teasing Tyler as he lead him into the entry way. 

“You’re sleeping your life away Seguin.”

“Ha, ha,” Tyler said sarcastically, bending down to unclip Marshall and Cash’s leashes. He then headed to the kitchen, Marshall, Cash and Sharpy trailing behind. He fished two dog treats out of the bag by the sink. Sharpy set the pizza on the counter and Tyler gestured for Marshall and Cash to sit. He tossed them their treats, and turned to Sharpy. 

“Beer is in the fridge, plates are in the cabinet by the stove,” he explained and Sharpy nodded while Tyler washed his hands. 

“Nice dishware, frat boy,” said Sharpy looking at the Lenox china plate in his hands. Tyler shrugged. 

“My interior designer picked it out,” he said and Sharpy snickered. Of course that’s how Tyler ended up with a dinner plate worth almost a hundred dollars. Abby would be appalled; Tyler probably ran the china through the dishwasher.

“Of course she did,” Sharpy agreed, opened the first box of pizza to reveal sausage and mushroom, the second pineapple and ham. Tyler’s mouth watered, and he swallowed down the influx of saliva, the smell even stronger now. 

He got himself two slices of the pineapple and a slice of the mushroom and sausage. He held a breadstick in his mouth and grabbed a roll of paper towels to use of napkins that he tucked under his arm. He grabbed one of the craft beers out of the fridge, Sharpy followed suit, picking up a Bud Light. 

He led him into the media room and set his plate on the coffee table and took a bite out of the breadstick, the end soggy from being in his mouth. He flopped onto the couch, and Sharpy sat down next to him. He kicked his boots off, and threw his feet up onto the ottoman that matched the couch, slouching into the cushions. 

“We’re watching the Boston Chicago game right?” he clarified, licking the garlic sauce from the breadstick off his fingers. “Our old teams battling it out?” 

“Yep,” said Sharpy, popping the p as well as the tab on his beer. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but Boston needs to win, Johnny needs to be knocked down a peg, he’s getting insufferable in the group chat.” The Blackhawks had been on a winning streak. Tyler wasn’t sure how many games long.

Tyler hummed; he was also rooting for his old team. They might not have believed in him anymore, but he would always believe in them. 

“How are he and Pat doing?” Tyler asked suddenly, drawing Sharpy’s attention away from the pregame report. 

Sharpy chewed and swallowed the bite of pizza he had just taken. He was a little concerned that Tyler wasn’t keeping up with Pat, their friendship having become strained after Jamie’s explosion. Tyler didn’t blame Pat for his breakup, but that didn’t stop Kaner from blaming himself. 

“They’re good,” Sharpy said. “Still disagreeing about kids. Johnny really wants to try fertility treatments since Peeks’ G-positive, but they haven’t had any luck getting pregnant. Peeks still want to let it happen when it happens, part of me wonders if he doesn’t want to miss any of his season if it doesn’t end up working.” 

Tyler didn’t say anything, thinking of the box under his bathroom sink. He watched Johnny and Bergy faceoff across the center circle. 

“Yeah, it’s tough.” He said, even though Bergy won the face off, Pat was quick to steal the puck away, rushing it towards Tuukka. 

“I had never seen him so upset before.” Tyler said, suddenly realizing that he wanted to talk about this now. “When they came down the day before the game and Pat showed up on my door step I thought someone had died.” Tyler swallowed hard. “He seemed to think that Johnny thought he was broken or something, or that he was broken.” Tyler went to take a sip of his beer and found it was empty. He swallowed again. His palms were sweating. He went back into the kitchen and grabbed another slice of pizza, a breadstick and another beer. Johnny had presented Patrick with a pamphlet on different fertility treatments that would be available to them that morning, and Patrick had panicked. 

“Then he started saying he didn’t want to try the treatments in case they didn’t work, and that he didn’t want to start those kind of measures right at the start of the season, and Johnny just kept saying that anytime was a good time, this was the rest of their lives together.” Tyler squeezed his eyes shut. Patrick had broken down sobbing, saying he didn’t know what to do. He was scared that even with the treatments he wouldn’t get pregnant and that Johnny had always wanted kids. Sharpy may have spoken, if he did he didn’t notice. 

“All I could think was that I couldn’t wait to talk to Jamie,” Tyler said ruefully. Tyler was also G-positive. They were both still young, and that it would be sometime in the more distant future, but Tyler knew he wanted to have kids. He has also been pretty sure he wanted to have them with Jamie. They hadn’t talked about it yet, he wasn’t even sure if Jamie knew about his carrier status. But seeing Patrick struggle with it had brought it to mind. 

Tyler had always been insecure in the relationship, his past mistakes haunting him, making him wonder how someone as good as Jamie could want him. Part of him craved the reassurance that Jamie loved him, and wanted this future with him just as bad as Tyler did. 

He finished the breadstick, and debated getting another one. His stomach gurgled; he was starting to feel full. He pressed a hand overtop of his shirt, centered over his belly button, but then quickly jerked it away as if suddenly aware of what he was doing. He could hear the game in the background, the buzzer sounded. Marchy had just scored. 

“We went up to my room to talk some more, to just like lay down, Pat was mess, and I didn’t know what to do,” Tyler let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was started to feel a cramp forming. He shifted his weight. 

“We must have fallen asleep, I had been so tired that week, and my hips had been bothering me along with the knee. I’ve always had bad hips and wasn’t able to stretch the way I normally do because of my knee.” Tyler shuttered, suddenly picturing Jamie’s face when he had walked into the bedroom, he had been holding sunflowers, Tyler’s favorite, trying to cheer him up, knowing he hadn’t been feeling great, and was upset about his sprained knee and missed Pilates classes, the absence of which had caused his hips to tighten up uncomfortably. “Then well, you know what happened.” 

Sharpy winced, Tyler wouldn’t tell him what Jamie had said but he knew hadn’t been nice. Jamie wasn’t as kind as he had led everyone to believe, especially when it came to Tyler. Their argument had continued even after Patrick had left, fleeing to his hotel. The next day, the rest of the team had refused to acknowledge Tyler when he came to talk to them before going up to the press box to watch the game. 

Sharpy had heard snippets of gossip, piecing together a story where Tyler had fucked another man, and Jamie had caught them in bed together. The narrative was spun so that Tyler was painted as a whore, searching for thrills wherever he could find him, breaking the heart of their captain in the process. But Tyler hadn’t looked like a man caught cheating. He looked like a child who had had his security blanket, his best friend taken away from him in a violent, bloody struggle. 

He opened his mouth; trying to think of something he could say, trying to bring Tyler some form of comfort and wisdom. The goal buzzer sounded from the TV. Marchand had scored again. Tyler took a long sip from his beer and exhaled shakily. 

“I wonder if Marchy will get a hat trick,” he mused, signaling that he was done talking about Patrick and Jamie. Sharpy made a face but followed Tyler’s redirection of the conversation. 

“Or he could not,” he said and Tyler shifted to look at him, an eyebrow raised. His lips were shinny from the grease of the pizza.

“I thought you wanted Boston to win? Knock Johnny of his high horse,” he asked and Sharpy shrugged. 

“I can want Boston to win, and Marchand to still lose,” he said and Tyler laughed, setting his now empty beer can on the ground shuffling to fish his phone out of his back pocket. 

“I’m going to tweet that,” he informed Sharpy. He had been neglecting his social media accounts since his break up with Jamie, save for posting a photo of Marshall and Cash. He pulled up the twitter app, wiping his slick fingers on his jeans despite the paper towels next to him. 

“@Psharp10 says that he hopes the B’s win but @bmarch63 loses #notcool #whycantweallbefriends” Tyler hit send. 

Within two minutes his tweet had been retweeted three hundred times, favorite five hundred times and his replays were full of people agreeing with him, screaming that he was still friends with Marchy, and scowling Sharpy for cheering for the Bruins instead of the Blackhawks. 

“The power of the internet,” grumbled Sharpy, scrolling through his own twitter feed. He knew he would be hearing from Peeks, Johnny, Seabs and Duncs as soon as their game was over. Tyler, who was finishing his last slice of pizza looked smug. 

“I’m going to get another beer,” he said pulling himself out of the couch cushions. “Do you want another?” he asked and Sharpy shrugged. “Why not?” 

Tyler made his way into the kitchen, and grabbed three of the Bud Lights out of the fridge. “I’m just going to let the dogs out for a second!” he lied “Cash is sitting by the door,” hearing his name Cash trotted over to where Tyler was standing by the back door, he cocked his head to the side but followed Tyler onto the back porch. Marshall couldn’t be bothered from his position sprawled on the floor. 

He poked a hole near the bottom of one of the cans of beer, and raised it to his mouth. He popped the tab and the liquid went rushing down his throat. He felt like a frat boy, but he didn’t want to think too hard about what was under his bathroom sink. He burped when he was done made a face, then quickly hiccup. He groaned. Tyler was so tired of having the hiccups. He called Cash to his side, distracting him from where he was investigating what appeared to be a squirrel near the edge of the pool. 

They headed back inside and Tyler hiccupped again. He dug around in his cabinets, and quickly chewed two Tums then tossed Cash a piece of ham off of the left over pineapple pizza for being such a good boy. Marshall looked up at the sound of food hitting the floor, sending Tyler a look of betrayal. He shrugged, snagged a breadstick and went back into the media room, flopping back on the couch next to Sharpy. He hiccupped then chocked on the breads stick. The third period had started while he was gone. The Bruins were still leading two to one. 

“Come on Marchy,” Tyler muttered, airways now clear of breadstick. Bard Marchand was racing down the rink, the puck on his stick and Bergy open on his heels. Seabrook tried to steal the puck off of him but Marchy was easily able to deflect. Tyler was nearly on the edge of his seat. “Come on Marchy.”

Tyler whooped as Marchy nearly ran into Crow, stopping at the last second, spraying him with snow the puck sliding in cleanly beside his right pad. The goal horn sounded and the TD Garden erupted in cheers, hats raining down onto the ice. Tyler pulled out his phone and opened twitter. 

“Sick hatty @Bmarch63” he tweeted as the rest of the Bruins crowded around Brad patting him on the back. 

Tyler smirked when he got a notification that Sharpy had retweeted it. He looked over and Sharpy stuck out his tongue. 

Tyler finished the rest of his beer and leaned back to stretch, feeling a heavy pressure in his bladder. The game cut to a commercial break and Tyler stood up. 

“Imma go piss, I’ll be right back,” he said, by passing the bathroom on the first floor and heading upstairs to the master bedroom. He warm and relaxed despite the discomfort in his stomach, just loose enough that he was able to act without over thinking it, like he had planned. The beer he had shot gunned on the deck giving him just enough of a light feeling that he could do this without panicking. 

He pulled the cardboard box out from under the sick and ripped open the package, scanning the instructions quickly before he changed his mind. Taking a deep breath he peed on the end of the stick and then placed it face down on the counter, the directions thrown haphazardly next to it. He washed his hands and headed back down to watch the rest of the game with Sharpy. He despite his suspicions, he wasn’t ready to know what the pregnancy test said yet.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, and I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> A key point in this story is that Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler through, and for now at least, their interactions are not positive. Let me know if you need more detail or if there are any warnings I might have missed! (See the notes in the first chapter for more information)
> 
> Big thank you to talkingraccoon who has been kind enough to help me edit this!! However, if there are any mistakes that just means I probably ignored her advice, therefore all mistakes are completely my own  
> Enjoy! And thanks for reading!

Tyler hoisted himself out of his car, his joints creaking as he retrieved the bottle of wine he had brought for the Sharps from the backseat. Lindy had run a drill with Tyler on the puck, trying to protect it while the rest of the team took turns doing everything they could to knock him off of it. Sharpy had been the only one not to hit him as hard as he could. 

He ached as if he had played a game into overtime. He had been slammed into the boards and into the ice more times than he could count. Each time he was forced to pull himself up, watching as whoever had plowed into him took off with the puck, Lindy blowing his whistle and calling out “again.” 

He was almost positive he was being punished for getting sick during the Coyotes game. Despite Justin’s diagnosis that he still had the bug that led to his earlier scratch, Lindy seemed skeptical, taking Jamie’s accusations to heart even if he couldn’t openly admit it, or confront him about it. 

He couldn’t make Tyler run a bag skate, not when he was the only player running the drill. It would be confirming the media’s speculations, and tarnishing the Stars’ image. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t find more creative ways to teach him a lesson. His entire left side was bruised, the angry dark purple skin fading into the dark lines of the ink of his sleeve. 

He subconsciously pressed a hand to his stomach and then shook his head, heading up the walkway. He rang the doorbell. He could hear Shooter barking. He smiled, and then glanced down hoping that he was dressed appropriately. He was wearing one of the new pairs of dark wash jeans, and a dark green Henley, the sleeves pushed up to mid forearm, showing off the tattoos around his wrists. 

He looked up just in time to smile as Abby Sharp opened the door, her long blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail. She was wearing a soft looking gray long sleeve shirt and jeans. Tyler exhaled, pleased that he was dressed appropriately. 

“Tyler!” she greeted, pulling him into a hug before he had even crossed the threshold. He returned the hug before shifting awkwardly. Not sure how to act, this was his first time coming to Sharpy’s alone, and the first he had been invited by Abby. 

“Here, let me take that,” she offered, taking the bottle of wine from his hands. 

Tyler blushed. “I hope it’s okay, the guy at the store picked it out,” he admitted, bending down to take off his boots after spotting Abby’s bare feet. 

“I’m sure it’ll be lovely,” Abby said, leading him into the kitchen, “Patrick! Tyler’s here!” she called into the depths of the house. Sharpy appeared a second later wearing a faded UVM tee shirt and jeans. 

“Hey,” he greeted running his fingers through his hair. 

“Why don’t you give Tyler a tour?” Abby suggested, stirring something on the stove, “while I just finish up here? Everything should be ready in about ten minutes.” 

“Do you want any help?” Tyler offered. His cooking abilities were limited, but he was good at following directions. Abby just shook her head. 

“No I’m good, go with Patrick, things will be ready in a few,” she assured and Tyler nodded as much to her as to himself and followed Sharpy down a hallway. Tyler had been to the Sharps’ house before, but for team gatherings they were mainly contained to the media room and the backyard. 

“Well, since I’m apparently giving a tour, as you know, this is the media room,” he said gesturing through a set of double doors, “and then we have the laundry room, and the mudroom off of the kitchen.” He showed Tyler the living room, and a family room with a baby grand piano which turned into the dinning room once again just off of the kitchen, before leading him up a grand staircase he had noticed in the entryway. 

Sharpy pointed out his and Abby’s bedroom, Maddy’s room, Sadie’s room, two guest rooms, an office and finally a playroom where the girls themselves were seated around a small table having a miniature tea party. Tyler smiled when he saw the princess tiara that they had managed to get Shooter to wear. He looked over at Sharpy as if pleading for him to save him. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Sharpy told the girls, walking over to pick up Sadie who smiled up at him, attaching her chubby fingers to the collar of his shirt. 

“But we’re having a tea party,” pouted Maddy, putting emphasis on the tea party. She was holding onto a plastic teacup tightly, a feather boa around her neck, a second tiara in her hair. Sharpy just smiled down at her, his face soft. 

“How about you finish your tea party after dinner?” Sharpy offered. He looked over at Tyler and smirked. “You remember my friend Mr. Tyler?” he asked gesturing towards Tyler who blushed, not sure where this was going. Maddy looked over at him and nodded. “I bet if you ask him nicely Mr. Tyler would love to come to your tea party.” Sharpy said and Maddy’s eyes went wide as she looked over at Tyler. 

“Will you come to my tea party Mr. Tyler?” she asked and Tyler smiled before speaking to her for the first time.

“It would be an honor to attend your tea party Miss. Madelyn,” Tyler said bending down so that he was on her level. She grinned. 

“You have to wear a crown!” she insisted, and Tyler nodded. 

“Of course, you can’t have a tea party without one,” he agreed. “Do you have one I can borrow? I left my crown at home.” 

Maddy looked horrified but nodded, running over to her dress up trunk, she dug around for a few minutes before reappearing with a silver tiara covered in pink plastic heart shaped gem stones. Sharpy turned his head, hiding his smirk against the top of Sadie’s head. His youngest daughter balanced on his hip. 

“Here you go Mr. Tyler,” she said holding out the tiara. 

“Thank you Miss. Madelyn,” Tyler smiled, accepting the crown. He held it in his hands awkwardly not sure what to do with it. Sharpy was barely able to suppress a snort of laughter. 

“Why don’t you put that on after dinner Mr. Tyler,” Sharpy teased in a tone that very much implied that pictures were going to be taken. 

Tyler sat the crown down on the table, “do you want me to carry you?” he asked Maddy, she looked at him for a moment as if considering it before nodding. Tyler held out his arms and lifted her easily; balancing her on his less bruised him. His shoulder gave a twinge of protest but he ignored it. 

 

When they made it back downstairs Abby had the dinning room table set. Tyler excused himself to the restroom and Abby turned to face Patrick gesturing for him to follow her into the kitchen, under the guise of helping carry out the plates. Maddy was sitting in a big girl chair, Sadie in a high chair. They were distracted playing with the bright pink and blue napkins that Abby had set out. 

“He looks worse than you said,” she hissed, glancing around to make sure that Tyler hadn’t reappeared. 

Patrick looked down, feeling guilty and thinking of the practice they had that morning. The guys had been brutal in the way they threw Seggy into the boards. 

“I just don’t know what to do,” Patrick said for what felt like the thousandth time. Jamie wasn’t Johnny, he wasn’t a captain he could bring this kind of issue to, and Lindy saw Jamie as the golden child. 

Tyler had always been seen as a liability, his past mistakes a dark shadow hanging over him at every turn, even when he hadn’t done a single thing to warrant distrust since arriving in Dallas. He wore his heart on his sleeve and was eager to please. 

Plus, Patrick thought privately, something he would never voice aloud even to Abby, in the grand scheme of things there were a lot of worse things that Jamie could have found Tyler doing. Things much worse laying on the bed fully clothed with Peeks, even if Jamie was interpreting the entire situation wrong. 

“Go talk to the GMs,” Abby said, reiterating an argument that they had many times before. “No one deserves to go through what he’s going through, he could get hurt and where would that leave the team? Where would that leave him?” 

“I don’t know,” Patrick said, glancing to see if Tyler had rounded the corner yet. 

“Or try talking to the other guys! They brought you in because you have experience and to be a leader, go be a fucking leader!” She hissed, taking a bowl of salad and shoving it roughly into Patrick’s hands. “Go set this on the table.” 

“I’m trying,” Patrick said back accepting that he wasn’t going to be winning this one. He wished that the situation could be as simple as the black and white that Abby had painted it. 

Her face softened as she uncorked the bottle of wine that Tyler had brought, bringing it into the dinning room along with sippy cups of juice for Maddy and Sadie. They found Tyler in the entryway rubbing Shooter’s stomach and cooing over the basset hound’s floppy ears. Tyler flushed bright red when he saw them. 

He stood up and cleared his throat while Patrick smirked. “Do you guys need any help?” he asked and Abby giggled. 

“You can just go sit down,” she said, before leading Patrick back into the kitchen to collect the kabobs out of the oven where they had been kept warm after coming off of the grill. 

Abby poured herself, Tyler and Patrick each a glass of wine, and signaled for them to eat. Tyler made a pleased sound when he discovered the cherry tomatoes in the salad and flushed, putting a heaping serving of it next to the bed of brown rice he had made for his chicken and pepper kabob. 

Conversation flowed freely, Abby easily steering the topics around Maddy, Sadie and Tyler’s family. He talked about his sisters, telling a story about Cassidy’s high school hockey team and how she would be graduating in the spring, and how he wasn’t ready for her to join Candace in college. He talked about how Tyler Brown, or Brownie, his childhood best friend who was currently playing in the AHL, was thinking about going to college, hockey never being the way of life it was for Tyler. 

He pointedly avoided talking about the Stars, and surprisingly his parents, but neither Abby nor Patrick pushed the issue. 

By the time Patrick was scooping mixed berries into printed ceramic bowls, Tyler was yawning from his place on the couch in the living room where they had moved for dessert. Maddy had gone upstairs with Shooter to get ready for her tea party. 

Sadie was curled up on his chest, examining his tattoos with interest. Patrick shamelessly snapped a picture on his phone. His daughter was adorable. 

They continued to make small talk, Abby telling Patrick and Tyler about some of the things she had seen at the school, before going into the horrors stories from her days as an ER nurse in Chicago.

Patrick laughed out loud remembering the time Abby had been on duty, and her shock when Adam Burish had been brought in for examination after taking a nasty hit during a game, when he had been at her dinner party the night before. Up until that point, none of her coworkers had considered that possibility that her then boyfriend Patrick, who played hockey, was actually on the Blackhawks. This then turned into a story about a woman who accidentally glued a toy doll to her daughter. When it had started Tyler had giggled sleepily, announcing that that would be him as a parent.

“Patrick,” whispered Abby, suddenly stopping mid story, nodding towards the couch where Tyler was sitting. His head had drooped down so that his chin was nearly resting on his chest; his mouth was partially open, he was sound asleep. 

Without saying a word Patrick pulled out his phone and snapped a bunch of pictures, making sure to get Tyler at nearly every angle. 

“Should I wake him up?” Abby asked, realizing that Sadie was also out cold, curled up against him. Patrick shook his head. 

“Let him rest for a little bit, he’s been tired all the time, I don’t know if he’s not sleeping or what.” He explained and Abby agreed. 

“Sounds good,” she said, picking the wine glass that was teetering dangerously close to his elbow up off of the side table and bringing it into the kitchen. 

“You get to tell Maddy that Mr. Tyler won’t be able to play tea party tonight though,” Patrick said smirking and Abby rolled her eyes. 

“Fine,” she said setting the wine glass in the sink. “But you’re sending me those pictures you just took.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, and I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> A word of warning would be that Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler through out the story, and that for now at least, their interactions are not positive. Let me know if you need more detail or if there are any warnings I might have missed! (See the notes in the first chapter for more information)
> 
> Thank you so much to talkingraccoon who has been the best editor anyone could ask for! Also she has said she'd watch a few games with me in the fall, I am slowly converting her to the wonderfulness of hockey! However, if there are any mistakes that just means I probably ignored her advice, therefore all mistakes are completely my own
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Tyler sat down heavily on the bench following the completion of his shift against the Calgary Flames. He panted, his breathing labored, each breath feeling as if the oxygen was clawing its way in and out of his chest. He had a difficult time swallowing around the excess saliva filling his mouth. No amount of Gatorade or water was able to cut through it. 

Val was called on a hooking penalty when it very clearly wasn’t his fault and Tyler booed along with the rest of their team, banging their sticks against the boards. Jamie was on the ice, playing a double shift and he skated over to talk to the ref while he dragged Val towards the penalty box. They argued for a moment and the play went up for video review. 

The call on the ice stood, and Tyler was sent out on the penalty kill. His limbs felt heavy, he felt almost as if he was trying to skate through Jell-O. He tried to focus on his breathing, hyper aware of the way his heart was pounding. He tried to swallow, but it caught in his throat causing him to cough. There was a minute left on the penalty kill. 

Suddenly Tyler was falling. It was like his legs had gone out from under him. Or rather, he had been intentionally tripped. He hit the ice heavily; he rolled onto his side, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He hadn’t even had the puck in his possession. 

He heard a whistle, and Tyler slowly sat up. He felt dizzy from the sudden change in his elevation. He blinked owlishly, watching as Sharpy of all people plowed into Dennis Wideman. Their gloves were on the ice and the pair struggled, groping and hitting blindly before Sharpy shoved Wideman forward, the momentum carrying them both so that Wideman ended up on his back with Sharpy on top. 

Before they could continue they were being pulled apart by the refs, the third skating over to Tyler, to check that he was okay. He nodded, pulling himself to his skates and smiling. His heart suddenly swelled with fondness. 

“Yeah,” he said, trying to keep the smile out of his voice, “I just had the wind knocked out of me, I didn’t know Sharpy was capable of fighting.” 

Sharpy ended up getting a 2-minute minor penalty for fighting, which he got to serve along with Val’s who was finishing his final fifty seconds. Meanwhile Wideman was given 5 for both tripping Tyler and the fight. When Val was about to rejoin the ice, setting them at even strength Spezza quickly scored, giving them a two to one lead. 

In the third period the Flames scored again, successfully tying the game. Tyler chewed on his lower lip, he wasn’t sure he could physically handle the game going into overtime. Lindy sent his line back out for the final minute, where they easily took possession of the puck. Tyler raced down the ice, dodging the defensemen easily, passing to Sharpy at the last second allowing him to slot the game winning goal. They all rushed forward, cheering for Sharpy in celebration of the goal. 

Even though Tyler hadn’t scored in the game, he had clocked a clean assist, and he was pleased with himself as he stripped off his pads. They ended up winning three to two. Lindy didn’t have any complaints as he went over their post game meeting. Sharpy had even engaged in his first fight in five years, and it was to defend Tyler’s honor. 

Once he saw down to his leggings, his soaking compression tank top shoved into the laundry bag hanging in his stall, he pulled on a dry tee shirt. He winced at the cotton rubbing against his chest, and put a Stars Baseball hat on over his messy hair, blinking sweat from the stray strands from his eyes. 

The doors opened and the press rushed in. He was swarmed along with Jamie and Sharpy, everyone looking to get a sound bite. He painted his media smile onto his face, though talking to the press was the last thing he felt like doing tonight. 

“Nice assist,” said the first reporter, Tyler didn’t recognize him, he must be new. His badge said he was from the Dallas Morning News, SportsDay. 

“Thanks,” he said, forcing his words to come out carefree and relaxed, “I was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of a strong pass, then found Sharpy in perfect position to take that shot.” 

“Do you have any word on your friendship with Sharp?” asked the reporter. Tyler squinted, trying to read the name on his pass. He was pretty sure it said Scott. 

“Yeah, Sharpy is a good dude,” said Tyler, “he’s been a great role model, we’re a younger team so it’s been great to have someone with his experience come on board. He’s also become a good friend.” 

“Sharp got into his first fight in five years this game, following Wideman tripping you, anything to say on that matter?” Scott-the-reporter asked. 

“It was a shock when I hit the ice,” said Tyler, “It was a dirty play, I didn’t even have possession of the puck, Sharpy was looking out for a teammate which was greatly appreciated,” Tyler laughed, “I can’t remember the last time a teammate tried to defend my honor like that, it was cool.” 

“What is your response to the rumors regarding your departure form Wednesday’s game?” Scott asked.

“I had been fighting a bug the entire road trip,” Tyler said a sinking feeling filling his chest. “I thought I was good to play that night, and Justin, our trainer, agreed with my judgment, unfortunately that didn’t end up being the case.” His palms were sweating and his saliva felt thick, catching in his throat as he tired to swallow. 

“What do you have to say to the reports that you weren’t actually sick, but that you’re reverting back to the behavior that resulted in your trade from Boston?” Scott said, firing off the question like a shot to the chest. 

Tyler felt tears prickling in the corners of his eyes; he tried to focus on his breathing and to slow the rapid pounding of his heart shouting in his ears that he needed to run. 

“All I have to say on the matter that I was sick, it happens, especially when traveling, I let myself get a little more rundown that usual, and my body wasn’t having it.” Tyler said, hoping that his voice came out even. 

“What about accusations from your teammates, particularly your captain who has implied that your drinking and party habits are taking their toll on the ice, were these actions what contributed to you becoming run down on the road?” He asked, going in for the kill. 

“We’re done here.” Tyler said, turning away from the reporter, heading back to his stall. 

He was shaking and his eyes were burning. Each time he tried to swallow it got caught on the lump in his throat. He knew that Judy, their head of PR wouldn’t be happy with him. He didn’t even bother to shower, deciding he would when he got home. It wasn’t late yet, only just now nine o’clock, their game having been an early one. He shoved his clothes into his duffle bag, and pulled a sweatshirt on over his tee shirt, not caring that he was going out in his leggings as he tugged on a pair of trainers. 

He slipped out of the locker room before anyone else could stop him. He climbed into the driver’s seat of the Mercedes; his heart was beating so fast it almost hurt. His breathing was erratic as he clutched the steering wheel. He wondered if he was having a panic attack. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat, his knuckles white against his steering wheel before he felt well enough to drive. No one else had come out yet, so it couldn’t have been as long as it felt. Most of the guys were going out after the game to celebrate their win. Tyler hadn’t been invited, but even if he had he wouldn’t have gone. 

He merged onto the highway, thankful that the roads were mostly empty. The lack of traffic in Dallas compared to Boston was something that he would never miss about his former city. 

He pulled into his driveway ten minutes later, still feeling shaky and a little woozy. He let Marshall and Cash out into the backyard to do their business, before calling them back in a few minutes later. He stripped out of his sweaty clothes as soon as he reached the bedroom, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He would have to do laundry tomorrow. 

He showered quickly, the warm water a reminder of just how wrong his skin felt encasing his body. He dried off just as quickly, dropping the towel to the bathroom floor. He would get it the next morning with the athletic gear. 

It was nine forty five and his team was going out. He was exhausted but suddenly didn’t want to be alone. He dressed quickly, digging out the new jeans he had gotten from AllSaints. He cuffed the hems a few times, showing off his delicate ankles before he tugged on his converse, forgoing socks. He grabbed a lose dark gray tank top, the sides cut low, showing a hint of the ink on his side. 

It meant that his bruising was also visible, but he ignored it, knowing objectively that he looked good. He grabbed a red and black plaid flannel from where it was hanging on the doorknob of his closet, pulling it on and leaving it unbuttoned. He wasn’t sure where he was going, just that it was somewhere. He kind of wanted a milkshake. He wondered if it was pathetic to go to Sonic by himself. 

He went back into the bathroom to brush his teeth before he left and he knocked the pregnancy test off of the counter when he reached for the toothpaste. When he was through brushing his teeth he bent down to pick it up without thinking. He went to throw the test away, deciding that he didn’t want to know. He was debating what flavor milkshake he was going to get when he glanced down and felt his world shatter. 

He didn’t feel like going out anymore. He wasn’t sure he would even be able to stomach a milkshake if he did.

The test was positive.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, and I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Jamie is particularly awful and verbally abusive in this chapter. If anyone needs more information don’t hesitate to ask. Additionally, a character becomes extremely intoxicated, and attempts to drive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic)
> 
> Thank you so much to talkingraccoon who has been a wonderful editor, and friend throughout this fic writing adventure. However, if there are any mistakes that just means I probably ignored her advice, therefore all mistakes are completely my own!
> 
> Enjoy! And thanks for reading!

Tyler’s heart was pounding. He felt dazed as the air squeezed out of his chest when he tried to breathe. He dropped the test, his fingers going numb as it clamored on the floor. He barely made it to his knees before the toilet when he violently threw up. He choked as he heaved, the acid burning his throat. He had suspected, all of the symptoms lining up, but it was different to know. To have a pink plus sign glaring back up at him from a piece of plastic. 

When he was through being sick, he stood up. He brushed his teeth again with shaking hands, an eerie calm that didn’t last long washing over him.

“Fuck!” he swore, the calm broken, slamming his fist onto the counter of the bathroom. “FUCK.” He hung his head. Marshall and Cash whined from where they were sprawled on his bed. 

Sensing his distress, Marshall jumped down, coming over to rub his face against Tyler’s leg. He reached down, then found himself sitting on the floor, his fingers locked into Marshall’s scruff as he sobbed into his fur. Tyler didn’t know when he started crying. 

He felt something warm and slimy against his cheek and realized that Cash had climbed down to join them; he was licking at Tyler’s tears. Tyler pulled away and Cash cocked his head to the side giving him a doggy smile. 

“My good boys,” he whispered, not loosening his grip on Marshall. Cash whined again and nuzzled against him, trying to climb into his lap and finding it difficult with Marshall already sitting in between his splayed legs. Tyler used the hand not clutching Marshall to scratch behind Cash’s ears. 

After a moment he stood up, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his flannel. He exhaled shakily, the dogs on his heels as he made his way downstairs. He almost tripped at the bottom, Cash nearly getting tangled under his feet despite his size. Cash yipped at him and whacked him with his tail as if telling Tyler to watch where he was going. He giggled, the sound bubbling out of his chest hysterically. 

He just needed everything to stop. He looked through his cabinets opening and shutting them frantically, like if he was fast enough he could find all of the answers. He wondered if he was having a nervous breakdown. Tyler laughed again hysterically. He was pregnant. He opened the freezer and his eyes fell upon a bottle of Russian Vodka, the Cyrillic text coated in a thin layer of ice that melted when it came in contact with his warm fingers. Suddenly, he felt as if he was overheating. Tyler wondered if he was running a fever. He took off his flannel and tied it around his hips.

The vodka had been a gift from Ovechkin. There was some story behind it that Jamie wouldn’t share about NHL captain-to-captain and Sochi. But he wouldn’t drink it and it had fallen into Tyler’s procession. Tyler was pregnant. Tyler was pregnant with Jamie’s baby. He laughed hysterically and opened the bottle, breaking the silver foil seal. He raised to the bottle to his lips, not bothering with a glass. The cold liquid burned as it ran down his throat, smooth but stronger than he expected. He coughed. 

“Fuck,” he continued to swear, his knuckles white around the bottle, he was gripping the heavy glass bottle as if it was a lifeline.

“FUCK.” He turned knocking the mail off the counter, followed by the ceramic “junk bowl”. He took another drink from the bottle. He went back into the cabinets and grabbed a plate throwing it against the wall. Marshall and Cash whimpered when it shattered, running out of the kitchen. 

“I need to tell Jamie,” he exclaimed suddenly though there was no one to hear him. He screwed the lid back onto the vodka and grabbed his keys off the floor where they sat among the shattered pieces of the bowl. 

Tyler unlocked the Audi in the garage, setting the vodka in the passenger seat, and backed out slowly careful not to scrap his Mercedes SUV that was closer to the Audi than he thought and the Ferrari. He should probably sell it he mused, and buy something more child friendly. He was pregnant. Fuck. 

He barely remembered the drive; his heart was beating so hard in his chest. His palms were sweating so much he had to continuous wiped them on his jeans as he slipped around on the steering wheel. He parked carefully in the driveway behind Jordie’s truck. It didn’t occur to him until he was ringing the doorbell that Jamie might not be home. The team had gone out for drinks after the game. 

There was no sound from inside the house. He peeked into the window, finding it dark. 

“Fuck,” he swore for the umpteenth time. He went back to his car and sat in the driver’s seat, but he couldn’t leave. Grabbing the bottle of vodka, he climbed back out. He then sat down on the front steps where he would wait. He needed to tell Jamie, and he needed to tell Jamie now. He was pregnant; he and Jamie were going to be parents. 

He’s not sure how long he sat, his ass going numb from the uncomfortable bricks as he waited, sipping the vodka, letting the warm floating feeling it provided wash over him. It wasn’t even burning anymore. His limbs felt as if they were made of lead, but the bottle wasn’t as heavy to raise to his lips, as it was when he started. 

He was slouching watching the wind slowly ruffle the grass back and forth in the yard of the house Jamie shared with Jodie, when headlights rounded the corner and Jamie’s truck pulled up next to Tyler’s sedan. 

Tyler watched him climb out of the vehicle. In the mood light Tyler could see his smile as he headed towards the front door with Jordie. When they got closer the motion sensitive lights turned on and Jordie stopped short in the path, causing Jamie to bump into him. 

“What are you doing-” he started to ask, trailing off when he saw Tyler. Jordie looked between the two of them before stepping forward. He opened his mouth to tell Tyler to get lost, but Jamie beat him to it, putting a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

“Give us a minute,” he said, Tyler looked up. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy in the dim light of the porch.

“Jamie,” he said, his words injected with more joy than he felt. He needed to tell Jamie, but not in front of Jordie. 

Jordie looked from Tyler to Jamie and then back, and opened his mouth as if to argue but Jamie just shook his head. “Just a minute, I’ll see you inside.” 

Jordie exhaled, but nodded, stepping around Tyler to unlock the door, then make his way inside. 

“Go home Tyler,” said Jamie. He sounded defeated, like a parent tired of dealing with their ill-behaved child. Tyler couldn’t leave, though. He needed to talk to Jamie. 

“No,” Tyler refused, wanting to say more, but forming words was hard. He felt like he was floating. He tried to stand up. It took him a few tries but when he did the world spun. 

“Tyler you’re drunk, go home, we’re not doing this,” Jamie demanded, frustration seeping into his voice. 

“But Jamie,” Tyler whined, stumbling towards him. The bottle in his hand sloshed. Jamie looked pained. 

“I’m serious Tyler go home, you’re drunk and you have no right to be here,” Jamie insisted, starting to become visibly frustrated, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“But Jamie,” Tyler repeated, his words tumbling together, “I gotta tell you something, it’s, it’s…” Tyler couldn’t remember the word. “Important!” 

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” Jamie said, his words carefully measured. 

“But… baby,” Tyler trailed off, placing a hand to his stomach and looking up at Jamie, his eyes wide and suddenly wet. Jamie saw red, not appreciating hearing what he presumed to be a pet name. 

“You have no right, no fucking right,” he growled, his voice rising in volume. “You have no right to come to my house at twelve fucking thirty in the morning.” 

Tyler flinched, his hand dropping back to his side, but Jamie wasn’t done. 

“No right to call me baby, and say you want to tell me something. What, did you spread your legs for the entire west coast? Did you get fucked too hard? Is that why you fucked up the road trip? Is that what you want to tell me? Want to rub it in? What a fool I was falling for you? Was it some kind of game for you? And what about your little stunt with post-games tonight? Someone calls you out on your bullshit so you run away? You think we fought to sign you? You were out of options; we practically got you for free. Boston was tired of your bullshit and for some goddamn reason Nill thought he could fix the problem child. He’s starting to see that that’s not the case. Lindy wants to move you off first line, you can’t handle it, you’re not producing, you’re showing up to practices, showing up to games hung over and it’s hurting the team.” Jamie was breathing heavily, the vein in his neck bulging.

Tyler whimpered, wrapping his arms around himself. 

Then Jamie continued, “Getting involved with you was the biggest mistake I’ve made. You’re a worthless whore, fucking up and fucking anyone. You’re a toxic mess, and you couldn’t even talk to me sober, you’re fucking plastered right now.” 

Tyler was freely crying now, tears streaming down his cheeks in waves, settling in the course hairs of his beard. Jamie was surprised to find that his cheeks were wet too. 

“I tried to be there for you, to give you everything, the greatest things you’ve ever been given, and you still ran to fucking Patrick Kane. How long had you been going behind my back? How long have you been sleeping around, laughing at me behind my back, it’s a miracle you haven’t given me an STI, or that you haven’t gotten pregnant, slut.” 

Tyler couldn’t breathe. The mostly empty bottle of vodka fell to the brick path, shattering on impact. Jamie shoved into him, sending him back tumbling to his knees. He cut his hands on the broken glass as he tried to break his fall but he didn’t feel any pain as Jamie roughly grabbed a chunk of hair on the back of his head, tilting his head back and forcing him to look him in the eyes. It hurt, and his sobs became more erratic. 

“I wonder how many men have seen you like this, crying on your knees, I bet you’re begging for it, desperate to choke on a dick.” Jamie growled. 

He shoved Tyler away roughly, causing him to lose his balance from the way he was positioned on his knees. Jamie stepped over his body, heading into the house, leaving Tyler curled on his walkway, drunk and sobbing, surrounded by broken glass. Jamie wondered who he could call to collect Tyler; he didn’t need the neighbors to talk more than they already did.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, and I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. Additionally, a character drives drunk. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic)
> 
> As always, thank you to talkingraccoon, I don’t know what I would do without you <3 If there are any mistakes, they are completely my own! 
> 
> Enjoy! And thanks for reading!

“Answer the fucking phone,” Abby said, swatting Patrick’s shoulder, startling him awake to the generic ring tone of his iPhone. He reached around blindly, knocking a book off the bedside table and yanking his phone charger out of the wall as he answered it, bringing the phone up to his face. Abby buried herself under the covers, grumbling that it was one in the morning. 

“Hello?” Patrick asked, his voice heavy with sleep. He wished he had thought to look at the caller ID and that it wasn’t one of the guys drunkenly prank calling him because he had bagged out of celebratory drinks, choosing instead to go home to his wife and daughters.

“Sharpy?” the caller asked, his voice low and wrecked as if he was crying. 

“What’s wrong, Jamie?” Patrick said, becoming more alert. He sat up, his heart was racing. 

“Tyler,” Jamie sniffled and trailed off. Patrick was already half way out the bed and tugging on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Abby grumbled at him as he nearly tripped trying to put the pants and the hoodie on at once, his phone wedged between his shoulder and cheek. He was pretty sure it was a fondly muttered “idiot” from his wife.

“What’s wrong with Tyler?” Patrick asked, his heart in his throat. Jamie sniffled again and Patrick’s mind went to worst-case scenario. He felt sick and prayed that Jamie hadn’t snapped and killed him or something. 

“He’s gone,” Jamie said and Patrick stopped what he was doing, confused. 

“What do you mean, gone?” Patrick asked. Oh god, thought Patrick, praying that Jamie wasn’t calling about what to do with a body. Jamie sniffled, there was a rustling sound as if he was wiping at his face with his sleeve. 

“He was here, at my house when we got back, and he was drunk and I left him outside and when I went back out to call him a cab he and his car were gone,” Jamie said and Patrick swore. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Jamie said and Patrick was shoving his feet into shoes, heading down the stairs two at a time. 

“I’ll go look for him,” Patrick found himself saying, before rationality took over. “Have you tried calling him?”

Jamie shook his head, and then realized that Patrick couldn’t see him. “Yeah, his phone is on my fucking porch.” 

Patrick swore again, finding his own car keys by the hook next to the garage door. “I’ll go see if I can find him, he couldn’t have gotten far.” 

He didn’t want to say that Jamie should try calling the local hospitals and the police department. “Why don’t you call his land line, maybe he made it home,” Patrick offered instead. 

He hung up with Jamie, and got into his BMW sedan, pulling up the blue tooth as he pulled out of the garage. He called Tyler’s landline with no success; it just rang and rang before going to voicemail. 

If he was going to be driving around Dallas at all hours of the morning looking for Tyler’s car, he figured that the best place to start would be backtracking from the house that Jamie and Jordie leased. 

As he drove, he pulled up the phone number for the closest emergency room. A nurse answered on the first ring. 

“Emergency room, how can I help you?” asked the woman on the other line, her voice surprisingly cheerful for the hour. 

“Hi yeah, I’m looking for a friend of mine? No one can find him and he’s not answering his phone,” Patrick said, not sure how to phrase it. The woman on the other line gave a humph. 

“Name and description,” she said and Patrick swallowed hard, feeling like he was about to make a horrible mistake. 

“Tyler Seguin, twenty three year old male, six foot one, roughly two hundred pounds, has two full sleeve tattoos, including his last name,” Patrick described. 

After a moment that woman on the other end of the line spoke. “No one here matching that description, good luck and good night,” the line went dead. Patrick wasn’t sure if no news was good news or not. He didn’t dwell, he called the other three area hospitals on the list, all to similar results. 

He pulled up in front of Jamie and Jordie’s house. He debated going up to the door to tell Jamie that he was outside, but shook his head deciding against it as he dialed the office number of the Dallas PD. 

“Dallas Police Department, Officer Hopper speaking how may I help you?” responded a male voice, a Texas twang heavy in his voice. Patrick suddenly was overcome with a wave of missing Chicago. 

“Hi, my name is Patrick and I’m looking for my brother,” he lied. “We haven’t been able to find him all night,” Patrick continued, hoping that his tone implied that Tyler might have been in their custody. It was very likely if he had been driving drunk and hadn’t ended up in an emergency room.

The officer hummed. “Name and description, we’ll see if we got him,” he said and Patrick exhaled. 

He was making a mistake, but his fear for Tyler’s safety won out. “Tyler Seguin, twenty three year old male, Canadian drivers license, six foot one, about two hundred pounds, has two full sleeve tattoos, drives a black 2016 Audi A7, or a matte black 2014 Mercedes G Class, stormed off after a fight with a friend,” Patrick rattled off. Tyler hardly ever drove the Ferrari, and if he had he knew there would have already been pictures painted across twitter. 

“No one matching that name or description is in our custody, nor have either of those cars been found,” said Officer Hopper after a few minutes. Patrick exhaled, pleased Tyler hadn’t gotten himself arrested, and that he wasn’t in the hospital. But at the same time, that didn’t suppress the fear that he was dead in a ditch somewhere, pinned under the overturned metal of his car. 

Patrick squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled. “Thank you so much,” Patrick said, “I’m sure he’ll be home soon, I just worry.” 

“Little brother?” the officer asked, his tone sympathetic and Patrick let out a bark of laughter.

“Yeah, he’s a handful,” he said and the officer chuckled. 

“Well good luck finding him, we’ll keep an eye out, do you have number we can call if we come across him?” he asked. Patrick provided his cellphone number before hanging up. 

Patrick put his car back in drive, turning out of Jamie’s neighborhood, and heading in the direction of Tyler’s. The clock on his dashboard said that it was almost two thirty in the morning. He shivered and turned the heat up, the night air and stress of the situation dropping his body temperature. 

Part of Patrick was mystified that he was driving around Dallas at two thirty in the morning looking for one of his teammates. He hadn’t truly realized how big a part of his life Tyler had become. Tyler wasn’t a rookie by any means, but almost felt like he was his. But it wasn’t just that, Tyler had somehow become his best friend in Dallas despite their almost father son dynamic and age difference. 

His phone buzzed and he looked down, part of him hoping that it was Tyler, or even Jamie calling to say that he had found him.

Abby was calling. He felt awful that he had woken her up. She had to be at work at eight am that morning. Patrick didn’t have to be at skate until three. 

“Hey,” he answered, hitting a button on the steering wheel as he pulled down another side street, his high beams on as he hoped that he would stumble upon Tyler’s car, though he knew it was unlikely. 

“Where are you?” she asked, she yawned.

Patrick exhaled; it was time to fess up. He hoped that Abby wasn’t mad, that she didn’t think he was going too far. 

“Looking for Tyler,” he admitted at last, “Jamie called, apparently they got into a fight, and Tyler was drunk and now no one can find him,” he said before adding, “and his car is gone.” 

“Fuck,” Abby swore, sounding more awake. “I hope he hasn’t killed anyone, or himself.”

“I know,” said Patrick, turning up another street. There was a children’s sports field ahead. He made a note to take Maddy there sometime soon and kick a ball around. She was going to be starting youth soccer in the spring. 

“Have you called the emergency room? And the police department?” she asked and Patrick sighed. 

“Yeah, no dice,” he said and Abby hummed. He knew she was thinking the same thing that he was; no word could either be good, or very, very bad. There was a stretch of silence. 

“I hope you find him,” Abby said at last. Patrick exhaled slowly, he felt as if the weight of the world was suddenly settling on his shoulders.

“Me too.” 

Abby hung up the phone and Patrick turned a corner, bringing up along the far side of the field along with a small parking lot. He squinted, trying to make note of the lot for when he came back, when he realized there was a single haphazardly parked Audi diagonal in it. 

Patrick swore and swerved into the lot, pulling up beside the Audi. It sure looked like Tyler’s car, a scrap on the side that matched the pillars marking the entrance to the lot implying that it’s driver hadn’t been coherent. 

Patrick threw his car into park and climbed out, looking into the windows of the Audi. The dog blanket in the back seat looked like something Tyler would own. He rounded to the driver’s side, disappointed to find that its driver was missing. There was a puddle of vomit by the driver’s side door, as if the operator had pulled into the lot, opened the door and was sick.

He looked out into the field, it was pitch black. He shivered, fumbling to turn the flashlight feature on his phone on. His heart was pounding heavily in his chest. A flicker of movement caught his eye, his grip on his phone tightened as he turned.

“Tyler?”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. Additionally, a character drives drunk. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic)
> 
> Thank you so much to talkingraccoon, you’re amazing! If there are any mistakes, they are completely my own! 
> 
> Enjoy! And thanks for reading!

“I threw up on the T one time my rookie year,” Tyler said, his slurred words cutting through the darkness. “But Zee always got mad when we got called rookies, said we were first year players or some bullshit.” 

He was in the grass, on his back, his arms thrown to either side, his legs splayed as if he was lying down to make a snow angle. Absently, Patrick was wondering if Tyler missed the snow like Patrick suspected he would living in Dallas. 

Patrick sat down next to him, crisscrossing his legs. His heart was pounding in his chest. He was scared for Tyler. Scared in a way he thought he would only ever be for his daughters or Abby. He didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know how Tyler had gotten here. Jamie hadn’t said what had transpired other than an argument, following Tyler’s drunken arrival at the Benn household. 

Patrick wanted to pull Tyler up, drag him to his car and take him home to Abby. He wanted to take him into the light and scan him for injuries sustained either at the hands of Jamie or from his own drunken misconduct. Patrick wanted confirmation that Tyler was as okay as he could be in this instant. He wanted to keep him safe.

But he did none of those things. Patrick was scared of breaking the eerie dreamlike calm that had settled over the field. It felt as if the world had stopped, and they were suspended in time, like they existed in a bubble of it’s own universe. The clouds had shifted covering the moon and the stars, emphasizing how alone they were. 

It was a miracle Patrick had even found Tyler and that Tyler was even alive. As far as Patrick knew, and as far as the damage to Tyler’s car suggested, he hadn’t killed anyone. Patrick pushed the conversation they needed to have about drunk driving out of his mind. Tyler had gotten incredibly lucky. Rationally he knew that Tyler knew better, and that he wasn’t his responsibility, Tyler wasn’t his child, they hadn’t even been friends for that long. But Patrick still felt the overwhelming pull to protect. As Tyler went about his life he gave off the impression that he had never had anyone to protect him before.

“I was like eighteen I think, I don’t know, Marchy was keeping an eye on me but then I got lost and then he found me again but by then I was plastered, and the train was really jerky, the trolleys are really old. It was only like eleven thirty, too. I thought Marchy was mad at me, I didn’t mean to get lost or so drunk but people just kept handing me drinks so I drank them.” 

“Now I think he might have been scared; he was only like twenty-two, younger than I am now, and I think he thought I had been drugged or was dying or something. He kept saying I was too trusting, and that not everyone was going to be nice to me.” Tyler snorted. 

“He dragged me off at the next stop and got us a cab back to his apartment. If they catch you getting sick on the T they make you go to the hospital. He sat up with me all night. No one had ever done that for me before, not even my mom when I was a kid.” Tyler hummed. 

“I kind of wonder if someone did put something in one of my drinks that night, or what would have happened to me if Marchy hadn’t found me again, or if he hadn’t cared enough to look. I still don’t know why he cared though.” 

Tyler turned his head so that he was facing Patrick. He swallowed, he didn’t even know if Tyler knew he was there, or if he was talking to himself, so far gone that he still thought he was alone. 

From what Patrick could make of Tyler’s little story, he was willing to bet that this was how Marchand had felt on the train. Tyler had a way of making you care about him. He got under your skin, setting up camp in your heart. For all of Tyler’s flaws he was genuinely good at his core. He was all sunshine and smiles masking the self-doubt that brewed in his chest. 

Tyler was too trusting of those around him, which sent him into a tailspin. Patrick thought about the college kids he hung out with in Boston, only wanting his company because he was Tyler Seguin of the Boston Bruins, not because he was Tyler Seguin, dog dad and lover of historical fiction, they were the ones that led him astray, sending him on the path to Dallas. He thought about Jamie, about how Tyler had given himself away to their captain until he was left with nearly nothing when it went south. 

Patrick reached out carefully and placed a hand on Tyler’s bare shoulder. His skin was hot to the touch, which explained the tank top he was wearing, even though he should have been freezing. Patrick himself was shivering, the grass slightly damp and sending a chill to his skin despite the heavy fabric of his sweatpants and hoodie. His mind wandered to a hot shower, but he shook his head to push the thought away. Even when he got home he doubted a hot shower would be in his future. 

Tyler reached down and scratched at his exposed ankle. When he pulled is hand back Patrick could see the slightly glimmer of blood on his fingers from a bug bite. The alcohol coursing through his veins dulling the sting.

“Sharpy!” He exclaimed, now definitely aware that he wasn’t alone. He was grinning, his smile toothy and his eyes unfocused. 

“Marchy was the first person to be nice to me,” Tyler told him, his words running together. “But you’re nice to me too, even though I’m a fuck up.” 

“You’re not a fuck up Tyler,” said Patrick softly, Tyler tried to sit up, but ended up flopping back into the grass. Patrick moved so that he was lying down next to him. He stared up at the sky and the stars that weren’t visible behind the clouds. Despite the weather the sky seemed so much clearer than they did in Chicago. The sky in Dallas was typically filled with stars and clouds of precipitation rather than light pollution and smog.

“I am though, Jamie said so,” Tyler said matter-of-factly. Patrick closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He wanted to break Jamie Benn’s nose. 

“You’re not a fuck up,” Patrick said again, putting more force behind his words. On a whim he reached out taking Tyler’s hand in his own, and squeezed, trying to offer reassurance. Patrick wished that Abby were here. She always knew what to say, even when Patrick was at a loss. 

Tyler didn’t say anything, the steady inhale and exhale of their breathing the only sounds filling the night air. A cloud shifted and moon light shone down on them, Tyler’s tattoos almost looked like they were glowing. Patrick wondered if he had fallen asleep.

“What do you say we go home?” Patrick said at last, breaking the silence. He was cold and the last thing either of them needed was to catch a cold. Patrick’s shoulder was sore from lying on the ground, confirming to him that he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He fought back a yawn, reminding him that it was also the middle of the night. 

Tyler didn’t answer, and Patrick sat up, planning on shaking his shoulder, so that he could wake him up enough just to get him to his car. He would come back with Abby to get Tyler’s in the morning. But Tyler was awake, and his eyes were red and glassy with tears.

“You’re going to hate me too,” Tyler said, ignoring Patrick, his voice cracking, “Jamie does and he doesn’t even know yet.” 

Patrick wanted to tell him that Jamie didn’t hate him, that Jamie was an asshole that didn’t deserve Tyler, but he didn’t hate him. But instead he stayed silent, fearing that that would set Tyler off further. 

“I could never hate you Segsy,” said Patrick at last, he sat up and moved forward, pulling Tyler towards him like he did with Maddy when she was upset. Tyler sniffled, and didn’t respond. His tears were leaving a damp patch on Patrick’s sweatshirt. 

“I fucked up so bad though,” he said, his slurred words muffled by the fabric. “Like I fucked up and I didn’t know it, then I fucked things up with Jamie, then the team and then I made it even worse tonight.” 

“You’re not a fuck up.” Patrick said, though Tyler spoke, his mind made up in his drunken state. Though Patrick wasn’t sure he would have been able to convince him otherwise sober either. 

“I’m pregnant.” He blurted out before chocking on a sob. 

Patrick’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit.” He mumbled, rubbing soothing circles against Tyler’s back as he sobbed. Everything slotted into place. Tyler was pregnant. 

“Are you sure?” he asked and felt Tyler nod against his stomach where his face was squashed. “Have you been to the doctors yet?” Tyler shook his head no. Patrick moved his hand up to run his fingers through the hairs at the base of Tyler’s neck in what he hoped was a comforting fashion. 

Patrick took a deep breath, dreading his next question. “It’s Jamie’s isn’t it?” he asked and Tyler nodded, before chocking on another sob.

“It’s going to be okay,” Patrick said as much to himself as to Tyler. “I’m going to make it okay.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. Abortion is discussed in this chapter from a pro-choice stance. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic)
> 
> Talkingraccoon, is a goddess who is a wonderful editor and cheerleader and friend <3 If there are any mistakes, they are completely my own! 
> 
> Enjoy! And thanks for reading!

Tyler woke up slowly. His limbs felt heavy and his mind felt like it was wrapped in cotton. He groaned and lifted his head, drawing attention to a throbbing headache. His mouth tasted like something had died in it and then filled it with sand. He looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He was on the floor of a bathroom he didn’t recognize; a large bath towel was thrown over his shoulders like a blanket, a second rolled up on the tiles like a pillow. 

He was wearing pajama pants and a tee shirt he had never seen before, his feet were bare. Tyler’s heart started racing, jarring him into alertness. He didn’t know where he was. He was scared. He pressed his hand to his stomach, silently apologizing. He leaned over the toilet and dry heaved. He was surprised to find that he didn’t have anything left to throw up. 

He braced a hand on the side of the bathtub, the other on the seat of the toilet and pulled himself into a standing position. His stomach churned and threatened to rebel again. He breathed through his nose slowly, focusing on the inhale and exhale. He looked at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. 

He was pale, dark bruise-like circles under his bloodshot eyes. His skin had a sweaty unwell sheen to it. His hair was sticking up in all directions, and he had dried drool in his facial hair. He had nearly sweated through the tee shirt he was wearing; it was gray with a faded Chicago Fire Department logo across the chest. Overall he looked like a disheveled mess, he looked nearly as awful as he physically felt. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this horrible. 

He turned on the sink and cupped his hands together, filling them with water that he raised to his lips, he swished it back and forth in his mouth and spit. He took a step back and sat down on the side of the tub, the curtain pushed to the side and tried to take stock of his situation, despite the marching band practicing in his skull. 

He didn’t know where his phone was; he didn’t know where he was or how he had gotten there. He was wearing clothes he had never seen before, and he had little to no memory of the night before, other than being screamed at by Jamie. Something else had happened during the confrontation. His bruised knees and bandages covering stinging cuts on his palms signified so. But Tyler didn’t know what. He wondered if it was better that he didn’t remember. 

He put a hand to his stomach. He was also pregnant. That was a thing he was going to have to figure out. Fuck. 

Deciding that the best course of action would be to first see if he could figure out where he was, Tyler opened the bathroom door carefully. He winced when it creaked, sounding so much louder on the hinges thanks to his headache and the fact that he was trying to be sneaky. 

He was in a sparsely decorated bedroom, a queen size bed with a white comforter covered in tiny blue flowers in the middle. It looked like someone had slept on top of the blankets. However, judging from his set up in the bathroom, Tyler was almost positive it hadn’t been him. Overall, the room looked familiar as Tyler made his way into the hall. 

He was in Sharpy’s house. Shame filled his body. How had he ended up at Sharpy’s house? How had he gone from fighting with Jamie to being passed out on the bathroom floor of the Sharp’s guestroom? The Chicago Fire Department tee shirt suddenly made a lot more sense. Guilt washed over Tyler. He wondered if he could sneak out without anyone noticing. 

Tyler froze on the top of the stairs, a wave of nausea washed over him, almost sending him racing back to the bathroom. Had he tried to drive last night? Carefully, he walked downstairs, and peeked out of the window by the front door. He didn’t see his car in the drive way but that didn’t mean he hadn’t attempted to drive. He didn’t have his phone so he couldn’t even call for an Uber. 

He didn’t even know what time it was as he crept into the kitchen, the sun had been high in the sky but it could have been any time. He looked up and found himself face to face with Sharpy who was seated at the breakfast bar, reading from the iPad set before him. Tyler smiled weakly when they made eye contact. He wanted to run away, shame was coursing through his veins.

“Feel up to eating anything?” Sharpy asked at the same time that Tyler exclaimed, “I’m so sorry.” 

Sharpy flipped the cover shut on the iPad and stood up, carefully walking towards Tyler as if he was a wounded animal that could flee at a moments notice. Tyler swallowed hard, waiting for the other foot to drop. He wondered if Sharpy would at least call him a cab, before he threw him out. 

“We need to talk,” said Sharpy, and Tyler flinched, a hand subconsciously falling to his stomach as he tried to brace himself for the worst. Sharpy looked uncomfortable, and Tyler felt guilty for putting him in this position.

“I’m sorry,” said Tyler again, suddenly finding himself on the verge of tears. He wasn’t even sure if he would be able to blame it on raging hormones.

“What no? Tyler,” Sharpy said, confusion coloring his voice. Tyler found himself suddenly encased in Sharpy’s arms as the older man rubbed soothing circles against his back. Tyler snuffled against his shirt. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled against he fabric. He didn’t even fully know what he was apologizing for, just that whatever had happened; whatever he had done had been bad. 

“I know, I know,” reassured Sharpy softly. He tried to pull away, but Tyler continued to cling, his fingers wrapped tightly in the fabric of Sharpy’s quarter zip. 

“I’m sorry,” Tyler hiccupped. 

“It’s okay, I promise,” Sharpy said detangling Tyler from his person. “You need to eat something though, I know you feel like shit but you’ll feel even worse if you don’t.” He guided Tyler to one of the bar stools and gestured for him to sit down, then sat two Tylenol in front of him. “Plus you can’t take these until you eat something.” 

Tyler wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, staring at Sharpy in confusion. He couldn’t figure out what he was missing. Sharpy turned away so that he was no longer facing Tyler, he put two slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster, and moved to the fridge, digging around before reappearing holding a blue Gatorade that he slid along the counter to Tyler. Tyler blinked. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he rasped, then winced. His throat felt raw. 

Sharpy made a humph sound. “We talked about this last night, but I’m taking you don’t remember.” He said and Tyler flushed. He wanted to crawl under the counter. “We’re friends Segs, this is what friends do for each other. It’s almost like when Marchand helped you when you got sick on the T.” 

Tyler groaned and at that he buried his face in his hands. “I told you about that?” he said, shame coloring his voice. 

Sharpy smiled sadly; there was something he wasn’t telling him. “Among other things.” 

Tyler felt as if his heart had stopped. He subconsciously pressed a hand to his stomach. Once again he felt tears prickle in his eyes. He looked down and fiddled with the Gatorade. The toast popped out of the toaster and Sharpy put the two pieces on a plate then handed the plate to Tyler. He had been correct in his assumption that any type of spread might set him over the edge right now. 

He nibbled halfheartedly on one of the slices, not wanting to waste food, not when Sharpy was being so nice to him. 

He took the Tylenol with a large swallow of Gatorade, he winced when one of the pills got caught in his throat, and coughed. 

“So you know then?” Tyler said at last, “I told you?” 

Sharpy looked down, suddenly very interested in the patterns in the granite. “You told me a lot of things.”

Tyler squeezed his eyes shut. Sharpy was going to make him say it. “I’m assuming I told you I was pregnant?” he said at last, and Sharpy nodded.

“It might have came up,” he agreed. 

Tyler was suddenly overcome with a sickening thought. “It’s Jamie’s, you know that right? I didn’t cheat on him, I’m not a whore, I mean I am, but I haven’t been with anyone other than Jamie since I came to Dallas, it’s his,” Tyler said his words coming out in a frantic rush, he could feel panic brewing in his chest, his breath starting to come out erratic. 

Sharpy reached across the counter and put a hand on his shoulder. “Tyler breathe with me, nice and slow, in and out, it’s okay. I know it’s Jamie’s, and you’re not a whore, I don’t want to hear you say that again.” Sharpy said, putting the weight of the dad voice behind his words. 

Tyler just nodded; he felt like a child and fully under qualified to be having one of his own. Tyler’s heart jumped into his throat.

“Oh my god, I have to go, what time is it, Marshall and Cash!” he said suddenly realizing he had left his dogs alone for god only knows how long. 

Sharpy just smiled. “They’re all set. I texted Haylee this morning and I told her you got tied up with a team thing last night and this morning, so she went over and fed them and took them for a walk. She said she’d go over again in about an hour.” 

Tyler just blinked at him. “She was a little concerned about some broken dishes in your kitchen but I told her you had gotten the call that we needed to come in and it was all pretty rushed and didn’t have time to clean up. I may have also implied that they needed us on hand for a Jamie related scandal, but that’s besides the point.” Sharpy grinned wickedly. 

“So Marshall and Cash are okay?” he asked slowly.

Sharpy nodded. “Yep, your dog children are fine.” 

Tyler’s mind was racing, the Tylenol starting to help, his brain no longer felt like it was throbbing sluggishly. “I should probably go see a doctor,” he said and Sharpy hummed in agreement. “Oh my god, what if I killed it,” he said panicking. He hadn’t considered what his binge episode would do to a fetus. He thought back to all the other times he had consumed alcohol the past few weeks. 

“You didn’t kill it Segs,” Sharpy reassured. “And you can get yourself a doctors appointment to confirm it, then you can figure out what you want to do from there.” 

“What?” said Tyler not even bothering to keep the confusion out of his voice. 

“I mean,” Sharpy ran his fingers through his hair. “You have options you know? Like you don’t have to have the baby if you don’t want it? Like we might live in Texas but the Supreme Court ruled in favor of pro-choice, and even if they didn’t you’re a Canadian citizen, and like even if you do decide to have it, you don’t have to keep it? There’s always adoption.” Sharpy felt like he was bringing forward a bunch of bad news. Tyler stared at him as if he had just told him he had run over Marshall. 

“What the actual fuck,” Tyler swore, wrapping his arms around his stomach protectively. “No one is touching my kid, it’s mine, and no one else can have it.” 

Sharpy snorted and Tyler blinked suddenly realizing what he had said. He had never even considered getting an abortion. He could get an abortion and the whole issue would go away. He had no problem with abortions, but had subconsciously made the decision that that wasn’t the course of action for himself. It was called pro-choice for a reason. 

“Well, if you’re keeping it you really should make a doctors appointment, you have to be at least six weeks along.” Sharpy said and Tyler cocked his head to the side. 

“How do you know that?” he asked and Sharpy barked out a laugh.

“My wife has successfully created my two children,” Sharpy said, “also you and Jamie broke up a little less than six weeks ago and since it’s his kid, it would have had to have happened sometime before that.” He paused. “Unless you guys are having angry sex in the locker room after practice.” 

Tyler shook his head quickly. “Nope, no. Jamie won’t even talk to me,” he said. He took a deep breath. “I found out I was pregnant last night and panicked, so I got drunk and then went to tell Jamie he was going to be a dad,” he said. “It didn’t go well, I don’t even think I got to tell him, I mean, at least I don’t think I did. Everything from after I got to his house is really fuzzy. I just remember him yelling.” 

Sharpy didn’t say anything. He just nodded along with Tyler. Jamie Benn definitely did not know he was going to be a father. 

Tyler bit his lip and looked up. “Is it bad that I don’t know if I want to tell him anymore?”

Sharpy shook his head. “No, not really, I mean you should probably tell him eventually, and at least make him pay child support or something, but for now, the way he’s been treating you, you don’t have to tell him until you’re ready.” 

“Good,” said Tyler looking back down at his half eaten toast. He felt drained. He was pregnant, hung over and the morning had turned out to be an emotional one. “What happened to my car? Also, how did I end up here?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

“Your car is back at your place, Abby and I dropped it off this morning,” Sharpy said then took a deep breath. “Jamie called me last night after he yelled at you, said you were drunk and drove off, I just followed the road from his house back to yours and found you lying in that field off two streets over from your place.” He explained. 

Tyler exhaled slowly. He should have known. Davis Field had been one of his favorite places to go when he first moved to Dallas. When his thoughts got to be too much he would lie in the grass and look up at the stars. He would also go back in the daytime and let Marshall and Cash chase a tennis ball off leash. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Tyler, “and I’m sorry that you had to.” 

Sharpy rolled his eyes. “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do, and stop saying you’re sorry, you made a mistake, you apologized, we forgave you and now we’re moving forward.” 

“Thank you,” said Tyler softly, suddenly feeling less alone. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” said Sharpy smirking, “we have practice in half an hour.” 

Tyler groaned. Suddenly his heart rate sped up again and his palms started to sweat. “Am I still going to be able to play? What does this mean for the season? Shit. I can’t not play.” 

Sharpy bit his lip. “I don’t know. You’ll have to figure that out with your doctor.” 

Tyler nodded, he could work with that, and he knew he would find out for sure all of the details of what he would and would not be able to do once he found and met with a doctor. 

“I’ll see if I can get a no contact jersey for today,” he mused, “just to be safe.” 

“Are you going to tell them yet?” Sharpy asked and Tyler shook his head. Again, it wasn’t something he had previously thought about but found himself having a strong opinion on anyway.

“No, I think I’m going to at least wait until I see a doctor,” he said. Sharpy nodded. 

“Well,” he said as he looked at his phone on the counter. “We should probably get going, I can lend you a tee shirt or something, your jeans should be dry by now.” 

Tyler flushed, remembering he was wearing Sharpy’s clothes. 

“What happened to my clothes?” he asked sheepishly, “or do I really not want to know?”

Sharpy grinned. “You really don’t want to know.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic)
> 
> Talkingraccoon is a wonderful human, friend, writer, and beta reader, so once again a HUGE thank you for all the help with this fic! You’re amazing! If there are any mistakes, they are completely my own! 
> 
> Enjoy! And thanks for reading! I hope you’re having a great day!

Guilt clawed through Jamie’s chest, while shame sat hot and heavy in his belly. He barely remembered the drive to their practice rink; Tyler’s iPhone, the screen now cracked, was sitting on the passenger seat. He kept catching glimpses of it in his peripheral vision, making his skin crawl. He and Jordie were driving separate; Jamie had wanted to get there early so he could leave the phone in Tyler’s stall before anyone else arrived. His truck was the first car in the athlete’s lot.

Dread draped itself over his shoulders as he walked through the double doors to the locker room. It felt like a lead tension weighing him down with each step he took deeper into the facility. 

Sharpy never called him back last night. He didn’t call in the morning or later in the afternoon as Jamie sat staring at his phone. He didn’t know if no news was good news, or if no news was very bad. He wondered if Sharpy had found Tyler, and if he had, if Tyler had told him what Jamie had done. He felt sick, he wondered if Tyler even remembered. 

Jamie had spent hours refreshing Deadspin and twitter. Not sure if he was desperate for an article or a picture of Tyler’s car twisted around a telephone pole or for the headlines to remain blissfully free from any and all mention of Seguin. The not knowing was torture.

He set Tyler’s phone in his stall; careful to make sure it was in plain sight. If Tyler even was okay, he wondered if he would make an appearance at practice, he had been drunker than Jamie had ever seen him. If he did come to practice would he go straight to the front office and file a sexual harassment complain? Was what he did considered sexual harassment? Jamie wondered if they would ask him to step down as captain. Maybe they could give Sharpy the C, he deserved it more than Jamie did. 

Jamie had made Tyler cry. Despite everything he hated it when Tyler cried. Tyler was always so upbeat, and easygoing. He was suddenly hit with the realization that Tyler might have been crying a lot the past few weeks. He had always been emotional when it came to things he cared about, and deep down, Jamie knew that Tyler had cared about him. Tyler had probably cried before, this was just the first time Jamie had seen it. 

He changed out of his street clothes and into his gear, and carefully taped his stick. He sat it beside him in his stall as he reached down and tied his skates. He then untied them, and slid them off, putting his crocs back on. He should probably save them the trouble of asking him to resign. He should go in and tell them what he had done, what he had said, his words even worse than they had been in October. He should tell them that he shouldn’t be wearing a C. Maybe he shouldn’t be playing in the NHL at all. Jamie frantically wondered if he could buy out his contract. 

The rest of the team had just startled trickling in. Jordie and Daddy nodded to him when they entered. Sharpy walked in in the middle of the group, Tyler trailing behind him. He didn’t look good. He had dark circles under his eyes, his skin pale and waxy. But he was alive. He was alive and at practice. 

Jamie’s heart jumped into his throat and he stifled the urge the run over to him, to look him over and see that he was okay for himself. Tyler didn’t look at him as he whispered something to Sharpy and then headed though the locker room, then through the door that led to Lindy’s office as well as the trainers’. 

This was it, thought Jamie, as he waited for the other foot to drop. He deserved it too. He wanted to apologize, wanted to convince Tyler that he was sorry and that he didn’t mean it. Didn’t mean it when he had forced him to his knees or when he spat vile insults at his shaking form. Shame once again rippled through Jamie’s body. The things he had thought about doing in that instant, even worse than what he had done.

His mother would disown him if she knew what he had said, or what he had thought about doing. It didn’t matter if Tyler had cheated on him, what he had done was worse. What he had almost done was unforgivable.

Tyler reappeared a few minutes later and sat down in his stall to take off his converse sneakers before standing up to wiggle out of his jeans. He wasn’t wearing socks. He pulled on the leggings and tank top that had been left folded in his stall. Jamie nearly called out, confused by the tank top, Tyler had always been very vocal against wearing anything under his pads. 

He looked thicker too, like he had gained weight that Jamie hadn’t realized he needed to gain. Tyler had always been so slim and lean that the changes looked good on him. Jamie quickly glanced back down at the rubber floor. He hoped that no one had noticed him staring. Because Jamie was weaker than he wanted anyone to know. He slipped off his crocs and retied his skates. 

Maybe he could talk to Tyler after practice, tell him that he was wrong. Jamie stood up and glanced around the locker room just in time to catch a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and his heart sunk even further. Tyler was wearing a red no contact jersey. 

“What happen to you?” Jamie heard Val ask walking over to where Tyler was now standing with Sharpy. 

“Just some soreness from the last game and practice,” said Tyler, Jamie made sure not to look in his direction as he strained his ears to catch what he was saying. “My hips haven’t been feeling great, I went to go talk to Justin about it and he wants me to take it easy for today.” 

Val hummed and patted Tyler on the shoulder, then mumbled something in Russian, before heading down the tunnel towards the ice. Jamie didn’t know that that was the first time someone other than Sharpy had spoken to Tyler in such a friendly manner since things had ended between them. 

Practice was uneventful, Lindy going almost easy on them after their win the night before. He told Sharpy that he was going to have to practice throwing a punch again if he decided he was going to try and be an enforcer and everyone laughed. 

“My wife says I’m not allowed to do that anymore,” he chirped and the guys laughed again, shooting him comments about not wanting to break his pretty face. 

 

After practice, Jamie tried to watch Tyler change without looking like he was watching. The younger man was moving slower, as if he was overcome with exhaustion. Jamie had to give him some credit though, he was a lot more alert than he had been expecting after seeing him last night. 

A renewed ping of guilt settled in Jamie’s stomach when Tyler had taken his gloves off, he had made a face at the bloody bandages wrapped around his palms, and tossed his gloves to the side. Jamie winced, knowing that the insides had to be disgusting from the blood seeping from the cuts on his palms. Jamie bet they hurt. He hung his head and made his way to the showers, where he had pushed Tyler into the glass. 

Jamie hung around after his shower. He was waiting for Tyler, while trying to seem like he wasn’t waiting for Tyler. Sharpy, Val and Spezza were also milling around the locker room so Jamie took extra care to look busy as he dug around in his bag. 

Tyler came out of the showers at last, a towel slung low on his hips, the dark bruises from practice and the game that painted his side on full display. Sharpy stood up from where he was sitting on the bench. 

“I stole you some more bandages from Justin’s office,” he said and Tyler smiled gratefully. 

“Thank you,” he said, and Jamie could hear more sincerity in his voice than the situation warranted.

Sharpy fake gagged, “stop it, friendship remember!” 

Jamie looked back down, he felt like he was intruding. When he looked back up, Tyler was dressed in the same jeans and converse sneakers as before, but now he was also wearing a denim jacket a few shades lighter than his pants, which were almost black, he had left in his stall weeks before, overtop of the gray tee shirt. He looked good. 

“We’re getting burgers,” said Sharpy, turning to Val, “do you want to come?” 

Val nodded enthusiastically and picked up his bag, following Sharpy out of the locker room, Tyler trailing behind. Jamie stood up, following after them. 

He put a hand on Tyler’s shoulder just as he was crossing the threshold and the younger man froze. He turned to face Jamie, his usually warm brown eyes felt as if they were full of ice. 

“Don’t touch me,” spat Tyler, jerking away from Jamie’s grasp. He didn’t know what to say as Tyler scampered to catch up with Sharpy and Val, the pair stopped a little ahead, waiting to see what the delay was. Jamie swallowed hard. His mistakes had been even bigger than he had though.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I mean no harm to anyone by writing this story. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic)
> 
> Big thank you to Talkingraccoon for continuing wonderfulness <3 If there are any mistakes, they are completely my own! 
> 
> Enjoy! And thanks for reading! I hope you’re having a great day!

Tyler woke up at twelve thirty on December twenty fifth with a heavy bladder and a desperate need for Indian food. He pulled himself out of bed and quickly pissed, calling for Marshall and Cash to follow him as he padded barefoot down the stairs. He scratched absent-mindedly at his bare stomach and yawned. 

He turned on his coffee machine, having purchased decaf the week before. Turns out his morning didn’t feel complete without a cup, even if there was no caffeine to get him going. He leaned against the door frame, a smile on his face as his watched his puppies run through the yard, yipping happily as they wrestled in the grass. He would never get over the thrill of having a warm Christmas. It was supposed to be in the seventies; he could even float a bit in the pool if he wanted to he mused. 

The coffee maker beeped and he slipped back inside, pouring himself a mug that he doctored with milk and sugar. Normally he couldn’t stand cow’s milk, but his sudden craving for it made a lot more sense after becoming enlightened to his situation. 

He pulled a Tupperware of watermelon he had cut up the night before out of the fridge. He brought it outside and sat down on one of the deck chairs in the backyard, watching the dogs play happily. After a few minutes Cash came trotting over, a tennis ball that Tyler had thought they lost weeks ago covered in mud in his mouth. Tyler laughed when Cash dropped it at his feet and reached down to throw it for him. 

Marshall managed to intercept the ball as it bounced and Cash whined before taking off after him in the yard. Tyler fumbled for his phone and recorded a short video of them playing. He posted it on his Instagram with the caption “the best way to spend Christmas morning.” 

He answered a text from Sharpy wishing him a Merry Christmas; a picture of Sadie and Maddy in front of the Christmas tree accompanied it. Tyler’s heart jumped into his throat when he realized that that was going to be him next year, sending family and friends holiday pictures of his kid. He pressed a hand to his stomach and wondered if it was worth sending Sharpy a picture of. He shook his head, and closed out of the camera app. He didn’t look pregnant yet, and he wasn’t sure if they had that kind of friendship anyway. 

There were a few more messages from friends and teammates past and present, some featuring kids and pets. He snorted at the one that said it was from Sidney Crosby, Sid wasn’t very into texting, and Tyler doubted he was on the list of people Sidney Crosby would text Merry Christmas. However, based on the number of open parenthesis featured, and the misspelling of Christmas, he was pretty sure it was actually from Evgeni Malkin, which was interesting, but Tyler didn’t dwell. He had a voicemail from his mother, but he deleted it without listening to it. He was in a good mood, and he wasn’t going to let her sour that for him. 

His relationship with his mother had always been tense. Tyler knew that he had been a difficult child, always getting into trouble. He got arrested when he was thirteen, for shoplifting and again when he was fifteen for vandalism. Tyler felt no shame now in admitting he did it for attention. He also knew that when his mother looked at him she saw his father, something seemed to only frustrate her more when she married David after his father’s death. David also wasn’t Tyler’s biggest fan either, believing that he was wasting his life playing hockey. Though Tyler was pretty sure that was due to his own failed hockey career. Then there was the disappointment of his exit from Boston, and their dislike of his relationship with Jamie. Tyler could be stubborn and mouth off but he learned that from his mother, making it easier on everyone if he kept his distance. 

He hadn’t been invited home for Christmas; he wouldn’t have gone even if he had been. They had a game the next day, and Tyler knew better than to invite his sisters for the holiday. They were coming down in March for spring break anyway. Despite his issues with his mother and stepfather he and his sisters were tight. Even if he had been avoiding them since October. 

When his coffee was down to the dredge Tyler called Marshall and Cash inside, and set the mug and empty Tupperware in the sink. He dimly wondered if he should have put more clothing on, in addition to the boxer briefs he had slept in before he went outside, but he had a privacy fence for a reason. 

He turned on the Disney Parade in the living room and Marshall and Cash scampered over to where he was sitting near a modest pile of presents in the corner next to his ficus. He had forgone the Christmas tree this year, knowing he would be going all out next year. The smell of pine had also become one of his scent aversions, which had made the final weeks leading up to Christmas difficult with every store scented as people got into the holiday spirit. 

He smiled as Marshall and Cash ripped into the wrapping paper, panting excitedly over their new toys, before taking off with the squeaky toys, the squeaks vibrating throughout the house. He himself opened a shirt from his mother and stepfather; he would probably never wear it, and it wouldn’t fit over his biceps anyway, or his torso in a few more months. He then opened a book from Candace, and a bunch of beaded bracelets from Cassidy. Sharpy had given him a copy of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” featuring annotations from Abby, who herself had given him a cookbook of simple recipes. She had been horrified to learn that Tyler primarily lived off of things he could make on the grill and take out. He had also been making more of an effort to learn how to cook. He didn’t want his kid to starve when the time came. 

Brownie had mailed him a mix CD, a tradition they had started in Juniors when they were both broke teenagers spending any and all money on hockey and alcohol. He felt guilty; Brownie had been one of the many people Tyler had pulled away from following his break up. He hadn’t been able to handle the underlying “told you so” in the conversation. Brownie had never liked Jamie. 

Next there was a lobster themed set of four wine glasses from Marchy, a quickly scrawled note telling him not to forget where he was from. Tyler wouldn’t be able to use them for a while, but he was excited for when the time came. He put them on display on the shelves in the dining room, snickering to himself over their cartoon speech bubbles. He had gotten Marchy a bottle of Texas Moonshine, a throw back to their wild youth. 

Once he cleaned up the meager mess from the presents, most of it Marshall and Cash’s doing as they spread wrapping paper across the living room, getting distracted by the colorful wrapping as they played with their new toys, he went up stairs to change into running shorts and a compression shirt. 

“You boys ready to go on a run?” Tyler asked when he came back downstairs. He stretched for a few minutes before hooking Marshall and Cash up to their harnesses. Marshall shifted his weight from paw to paw in excitement, squeaky toys forgotten. His boys loved when they got to go on a run with him. When they got back Tyler planned on ordering half the menu from his favorite Indian place, and falling asleep on the couch watching Christmas movies with his dogs. It might not be the most exciting way to spend the holidays, but for now Tyler was content with his little family, knowing that in the coming months it was only going to get bigger. 

Not feeling up to their usual nine-mile loop from the start, and cutting it down to a six mile one. Even then, Tyler found himself walking the last half-mile back to the house, Marshall and Cash trotting beside him with their tongues hanging out of their mouths as they panted happily. 

Tyler’s mouth felt dry for the first time ages. He was starting to feel a little woozy in a way that he never had before. He absent-mindedly wondered if he was going to get sick again. He was thankful that no one seemed to be out and about, and even if they were, Dallas wasn’t the hockey town Boston was. No one was going to care that he was Tyler Seguin if he threw up on the curb. While his morning sickness seemed to have eased up, once he found out it was actually morning sickness, thanks to these ginger hard candies he had found at Whole Foods, certain things still set him off. 

Tyler sincerely hoped that cardio wasn’t going to be one of those things. He rubbed at his stomach silently pleading with the fetus. A wave of dizziness washed over Tyler.

“I need to sit down,” he said to no one in particular, and found himself dropping to the curb quickly, jerking Marshall and Cash back when he sat. He tucked his head between his knees and tried to breathe. The dogs whined and Cash pawed at his shoe. He wanted to offer them a word of comfort but was scared that if he opened his mouth he actually would be sick. 

He probably should have eaten something more substantial than the watermelon he thought almost bitterly, as the asphalt swam before his eyes. Even if he wasn’t pregnant he knew better than to work out on empty a near empty stomach. He had had Lucky Charms for dinner the night before as well, following practice. It had been the only thing that seemed appealing as he stared at the chicken breasts and steaks in his fridge. He had even boiled a pot of pasta before dumping it into Tupperware and sending it back into the fridge for another day. He had always been a bit of a picky eater and his newfound food cravings and aversions reflecting it. He knew he needed the protein but was having a hard time stomaching it. His go to favorites were now watermelon and cherry tomatoes, which were great except in one way could replace a steak and pasta before a game.

What a way to spend Christmas, he thought bitterly, he was sitting on a curb a ten minute walk from his house, with his crying dogs, while he tried not to throw up or pass out. He didn’t even have anyone he could call and come get him, and no one even knew that he had gone for a run. 

He didn’t know how long he sat for, before the dizzy feeling started to pass. He scratched at Cash’s ears and he wagged his tail. Marshall licked his face and he smiled. 

“Daddy’s sorry,” he whispered, kissing the top of Marshall’s head, while he continued to pat Cash. “You guys are going to have a little brother or sister, and they’re making daddy sick.” He flinched after he spoke, saying it out loud again, even just to his dogs, reminded him how real it was. 

He pulled himself to his feet and they continued the walk home. When they got there, Tyler unclipped their harnesses and smiled as they raced to their water dish. He himself quickly finished a bottle of blue Gatorade, and ate a sleeve of Ritz crackers, before heading up to take a quick shower. He was still a little queasy but knew rationally that part of it was because he hadn’t really eaten anything substantial. 

He called for take out, happy to confirm that Punjab was still delivering despite the holiday. Wrapped up in plaid pajama pants and an extra soft old tee shirt, Tyler padded back into the kitchen. A sticky note on the fridge made him pause. 

He still hadn’t made a doctors appointment. He still hadn’t even begun his search for a doctor. He pressed a hand to his stomach and pulled the sticky note off the fridge. He crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash just as the doorbell rang. 

He grabbed three twenties out of his wallet and met the delivery driver with a smile and a happy holidays. Part of him felt a little lonely, but he rubbed at his stomach, reminding himself that he wasn’t really alone.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I mean no harm to anyone by writing this story. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic)
> 
> As always talkingraccoon is an amazing goddess, thank you so much for all your help! If there are any mistakes, they are completely my own! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)

December thirty first found Sharpy standing in Tyler’s living room, having let himself in with a key that Tyler regretted giving him for emergencies. He was starting to discover he and Sharpy had very different ideas about what constituted an emergency.

Sharpy was giving Tyler a friendly lecture about how he couldn’t spend their three-day New Years break hiding in his house when he trailed off mid sentence. “Should you really be eating that?” He asked and Tyler threw a Dunkin Donuts’ Munchkin at him. The powdered sugared donut hole left a white patch on his black polo shirt. “Rude.” Cash and Marshall flung themselves off the couch, racing towards the Munchkin. Marshall won.

“Fuck off,” Tyler whined, but Patrick just shook his head.

“Nope, sorry. Stop moping and put some real pants on,” Sharpy commanded, snatching the fuzzy purple blanket Tyler was wearing like a cape away from his person, and scooping up the cardboard carry out box of munchkins in the other. It was mostly empty. He brought the box into the kitchen as Tyler scampered after him. 

“Sharpyyy,” Tyler whined, dragging out the “y” sound, and making grabby hands for his Munchkins. He had had to put on a shirt that morning to brave the Dunkin Donut’s drive through to get them. 

“When was the last time you even showered?” Sharpy asked, spinning around so that he was facing Tyler. The younger man stopped and hung his head. It had been a day or two. “And when are you going to the doctor’s, you need to get this all sorted out.” Sharpy waved his hand in the general direction of Tyler’s middle. Tyler crossed his arms over his chest and glared. 

“I’m working on it,” he lied. He was starting to get frustrated with Sharpy’s hovering even though he knew he meant well. He wasn’t ready to see a doctor yet, it made things real in a way he wasn’t ready for, even if he had started talking to his still mostly flat, if much less toned stomach. 

“Well work faster,” Patrick pushed. “This is literally your health and your kid’s heath on the line.” 

Tyler glared harder, “I know! And I’m working on it!” He hadn’t realized he had raised his voice until the words had left this throat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you,” Said Sharpy, his voice softer as he looked down at his shoes. “Both of you really, and are you sure you should still be playing?” 

Tyler opened his mouth then shut it, took a deep breath and then opened it again. “The internet said it was fine.” 

Sharpy smiled ruefully. “I think that website you were reading was talking about a local beer league, not the NHL.” 

Tyler shifted his weight and glared, Sharpy stared right back. Tyler was ashamed to admit that he broke first. His stomach gurgled; maybe inhaling all of those Munchkins hadn’t been his best idea. 

“Come on, though, please come out with us, it’s just me, Abby and a few of Abby’s mom’s friends and some of their husbands, please? I won’t have anyone to talk to. They’re all like lawyers and bankers and shit. But they all have kids, so it’ll be low key and you’ll fit right in!” 

Tyler didn’t answer, he just turned on his heel and headed into one of the first floor bathrooms. The Munchkins had been a bad idea after all. He also didn’t know how he felt being grouped with the parents. He was probably going to be the only single person there. When he was done heaving he brushed his teeth. He now had a toothbrush in every bathroom for events like this, and found Sharpy sitting on one of the barstools in the kitchen. Tyler was so tired of morning sickness. They also lied about this; it wasn’t just in the morning.

It was interesting what it said about his life that puking no longer left him curled up on the floor wanting to die. It has become almost a part of his routine, something that happened and needed to be completed as quickly and painlessly as possible. 

“You good?” Sharpy asked and Tyler nodded, wrapping his arms around himself. He suddenly felt extremely exposed. Though he guessed he was, he was wearing leggings that cut off mid calf and no shirt. 

“Please come out with us tonight? It’s New Year’s Eve, no one should ring in the New Year’s by themselves.” Sharpy pouted, and Tyler shifted his weight from side to side. He didn’t really want to go, and he was almost positive that Sharpy was inviting him out of pity, not wanting him to be alone. 

“I can’t even drink?” Tyler tried, thinking of past years getting plastered was his New Year’s Eve MO. Last year he had spent New Years Day on the bathroom floor with Jamie petting his hair when he was sick. Tyler had even been too out of it to notice the disapproving glances, or maybe his views had been skewed by his blind devotion to Jamie. 

“You can DD, it’ll be great, I’ll get trashed and then you can take Abby and I to Waffle House at like two am like they do in movies,” Sharpy reasoned. 

Tyler bit his lip, he was suddenly craving waffles. And watermelon, he wondered if he still had any cut up. “If I hate it though can I leave?”

“I guess, you just have to come back so you can take Abby and I to Waffle House,” Patrick compromised. 

Tyler smirked, eyeing the box of Munchkins on the counter; they were starting to look like a good idea again. He shook his head and turned his attention back to Sharpy, the Munchkins really were not a good idea. 

“Aren’t you guys a little old for Waffle House at two am?” Tyler said sassily and Sharpy put a hand to his chest in mock outrage. 

“I come here, the nice guy that I am, to invite you to spend New Years Eve with my wife and her scary friends that have real jobs, and all you do is throw things at me and insult my age. I thought we were friends Tyler,” Sharpy said in faux outrage. 

Tyler grinned cheekily. He wasn’t even sure how to put into words how grateful he was for Sharpy. Sometimes the hovering could be a bit much, but at the same time he truly meant well, and there was something so wonderful about the fact that he no longer treated him like he was going to break, and instead Sharpy was his dickish self, the one that everyone who had ever played with him spoke so fondly of. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Tyler gave in, exhaling after he spoke. He really hoped that this wasn’t something he was going to greatly regret. Sharpy’s entire face lit up. 

“Go shower, I’ll take your dog children for a walk,” Sharpy said, practically shoving Tyler upstairs before heading over to where Tyler kept their leashes. He wondered what it said about their relationship that Sharpy had no issue commandeering his dogs, and knew where all their things were. Actually, thought Tyler biting his lip, he wondered what that said about Sharpy. 

 

Tyler fidgeted as he waited for Abby and Sharpy to finish getting ready. Maddy and Sadie were already upstairs with their nanny, and Sharpy was pre-gaming in the kitchen. He was wearing a light blue button down and slim fit jeans, a gray blazer draped over his arm. Tyler looked down at his own loose black sweater and black jean combo, wondering if he had miss read the entire dress situation. Abby came down the stairs wearing a metallic top, skinny jeans and sky-high heels, Tyler looked down at his sweater again. He had even left his snapback at home in hopes to dress the outfit up. He should have worn something with a collar.

“Should I have worn something else?” he asked Sharpy just as the man did a second shot. Abby rolled her eyes at her husband before turning to Tyler.

“Nope, you look nice,” she said, then paused before asking, “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m good, thank you so much for inviting me along,” Tyler said, pulling the too long sleeves of his sweater over his hands. 

“No, thank you for coming and thank you for driving,” she said and Tyler smiled. Sharpy did one more shot, gave them both the thumbs up. He put the bottle back in the freezer; the shot glass in the sink and followed Tyler and Abby to his SUV. Tyler still hadn’t gotten the Audi fixed. 

Abby directed Tyler to a bar and grill in the nicer part of town, while Sharpy pouted from the back seat. Tyler left his car with the valet and following Abby and Sharpy into the restaurant, he felt like a child trailing after his parents after getting permission to go out with the adults. 

The hostess directed them to a long high-rise booth where a few people sat. Tyler took a deep breath and followed Abby to the table while Sharpy scampered off to the bar. 

“Is this normal?” Tyler whispered just before they reached the group. Abby stifled a giggle. 

“Patrick has had a hard time clicking with the kids’ friends’ parents since we got to Dallas,” she said “They don’t speak hockey like people in Chicago did so he’s been a little out of his depth. It’s kinda cute, like I feel bad but it also reminds me of when we first started dating.” 

Tyler knew how that felt, he thought of all the people he had tried and failed to connect with since he arrived in Dallas. It wasn’t a hockey town, which provided him with some much-appreciated anonymity. However, it also meant that those he did get to know didn’t understand, and had no interest in hockey, which until he found out he was pregnant, was the most important thing in his life. 

“Abby! You’re husband is so much younger than I was expecting!” Said an obviously fake red head with a thick southern accent. Abby laughed good-naturedly, while Tyler looked down, trying to hide his discomfort. 

“Not my husband,” she said gesturing to Tyler, “This is Tyler, he’s Patrick’s best friend, and somehow was conned into joining us tonight.” 

Tyler awkwardly held out his hand for her to shake. “Tyler Seguin,” he introduced. 

Sharpy came up behind them, he handed a bright blue drink with an umbrella in it to Abby, a ginger ale to Tyler and was holding what Tyler assumed to be a rum and coke himself. 

“This is my husband Patrick,” Abby said, when Sharpy slide into the seat next to her, putting her in the middle between him and Tyler.

“Patrick Sharp,” said Sharpy, flashing his media smile at the red head and her balding husband. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The way Sharpy was gripping his glass told Tyler that for him, it was anything but. 

A few more people joined the group and as the night went on Tyler was introduced to the red head and her husband, also known as Joanne and Dennis. Katie and Frank are the parents of Maddy’s new best friend Amy, and Leslie, a lesbian who had separated from her partner the year before, had a son Sadie’s age. 

Halfway through a conversation about their children’s school, a conversation Tyler had nothing to contribute except for the sudden internal realization that he should be taking notes because he was going to have to think about school in a few years. He made a mental note to get a list from Abby sometime soon, he needed to be on top of this education thing. Joanne was talking all about the waitlist at their school, the same one that Maddy went to and how it was only thanks to a hefty donation from Sharpy that got his daughter in. 

Tyler wondering if he could put his name on the waiting list before his kid was even born. Mid way through the debate regarding the merits of organic mac and cheese and whether or not it was actually worth it, Tyler was struck with the urgent need to pee. He apologized as he climbed over Abby and Sharpy; Sharpy was on his third drink of the evening. At the rate he was going, he was going to be passed out in the back of Tyler’s Mercedes, not going to Waffle House. Abby just kept looking at him fondly. 

When Tyler came out of the bathroom he found Leslie waiting for him, he smiled awkwardly at her, assuming that she had taken the offered opportunity of a clear exit and also used the rest room. She was eyeing him suspiciously however in a way that made Tyler swallow hard. 

“You’re pregnant aren’t you,” she said. Her tone made it very clear it was a statement and not a question. Tyler felt his stomach drop. 

“What? How?” he stammered, hating himself the second the words left his mouth. He could have laughed it off and walked away. Instead he confirmed it. 

“I’m an OBGYN,” she said and Tyler flushed. “Plus, you’re very clearly not drinking, you moved a plate of nachos away from you as if you couldn’t stand the smell, and you’ve had a hand against your stomach all night whenever someone got too close or you seemed uncomfortable.” She finished and Tyler wanted the floor to swallow him whole. 

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly, any eloquence he possessed lost in his panic. He suddenly felt too hot, like the walls of the hallway outside of the restrooms were closing in on him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Said Leslie, and Tyler found himself sitting on the floor with her, while she talked him through breathing. Tears prickled in the corner of his eyes, he was pathetic. 

“You can’t tell anyone,” he said suddenly, scrambling to stand back up. “No one can know. Fuck, unless everyone else can tell.” 

“I don’t think anyone else can tell,” Leslie stressed, “I only noticed because one, I’m a doctor it’s my job, and two, I was watching you a little closer as the only other single person here.” She smiled, “Plus, I’m also a mom.”

Tyler exhaled, slowly, “Okay, okay,” he said trying to convince himself that it was. 

“Have you talked to your doctor about this anxiety yet?” she asked and Tyler shook his head. 

He meant to say that this was the first time that anything like this had happened, but instead blurted out that he hadn’t yet seen a doctor. 

Leslie pursed her lips and dug around in her bag, and handed Tyler a business card.

“You should make an appointment,” she said, “do you have any idea how far along you are?” 

“Ah,” Tyler said biting his lip, “at least like nine weeks?” he said, it coming out more as a question as he counted back, trying to remember the last time he and Jamie had had sex. 

“You really need to come see me then,” said Leslie and Tyler nodded. “You okay to go rejoin the table?” Tyler nodded again and followed Leslie back.

If anyone noticed how long they had taken to return, no one commented. Then again the only person who would have was Sharpy and he was staring at the rings his drink left on the table as if they held the key to the universe while Abby smirked and rubbed his shoulder. 

Katie looked at her phone and squealed just as Tyler got comfortable in the booth, Sharpy a warm weight against his side as he slumped over slightly. 

“We have fifteen minutes til midnight, the fireworks are going to be starting soon!” She cheered and suddenly Tyler found himself herded along with the crowed to ring in the New Year. He found himself with his palm pressed protectively against his stomach, Sharpy with an arm thrown around his shoulders, Abby on his other side. They counted down as the fire works exploded across the sky and everyone cheered. Tyler looked down at his stomach, suddenly feeling a thrill towards the New Year and it’s new beginnings.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the lack of updates! My beta reader has been swamped with her real job and I have been in the process of moving! Hopefully updates will be more frequent again- thank you so much for reading and sticking with this fic! This chapter is on the shorter side so I’m posting two at once! 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic)
> 
> Huge thank you to talkingraccoon! If there are any mistakes, they are completely my own! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)

The New Year found Tyler more irritable and moving slower. No one else had noticed his delayed movements, them putting him on pace with the rest of the team rather than the step ahead he had always seemed to be. Though Spezza and Val had come around, and even Daddy to a limited extent, none of them were close enough for Tyler Seguin induced whiplash the way that Patrick was. 

Rationally, Patrick knew that Tyler was under a tremendous amount of stress and pressure from the organization, on top of the issues he still had with Jamie and the rest of the team. Not to mention his pregnancy that he seemed to be ignoring to some extent. He was full heartedly taking the out of sight out of mind concept to heart.

Unfortunately, Tyler wasn’t able to ignore the hormonal changes, and that often led to his lashing out, only to frantically start apologizing in the next breath as if he was scared Patrick was going to leave him.

Patrick had tried to explain that he had done this twice with his wife so far, and that he got to send Tyler home to his own house, so it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could be, but Tyler as per the new usual didn’t listen. He just got frustrated because he felt like Patrick was brushing him off. 

It had become a sore point between them that Tyler still hadn’t been to see a doctor. He just kept spitting facts that he had found on the Internet and claiming he was fine. Patrick had found the card from Leslie and had threatened on more than one occasion to make Tyler an appointment himself, but this had just lead to screaming matches and Tyler giving him the silent treatment. That was before he called back in a panic to apologize. 

They were in the gym for an off ice work out. Tyler had his yoga mat laid out in a corner of the room by the mirrors, and was folding his body into a series of ridiculous pretzel-like poses. From his position on the treadmill, Patrick had caught Jamie staring more than once, before he had looked away quickly as if pretending he hadn’t been looking. 

Tyler hadn’t started to show yet, but he was definitely gaining weight, and it was definitely noticeable. Even more so in the close fitted long sleeve Lululemon shirt and yoga shorts he was wearing. Tyler looked thicker around the middle, and the angles of his face were softening as the weight settled. There was also his newfound ass, hugged snuggly in the shorts that probably fit him a bit better ten pounds ago. 

Patrick heard a small gasp, and looked over just in time to see Jamie nearly drop a dumbbell as Tyler contorted his body into some type of position that had him balanced on his forearms, his legs bent backwards so that his bare feet hung above his head. He then shifted, extending one leg and bringing the other close to his body. He moved back to the first position, and then lowered himself to the floor so that he was lying on his arms and shoulders behind him, his feet actually touching his head. Next thing Patrick knew Tyler was lying on his stomach flush with the floor before raising so that he was on his hands and knees. 

Jamie looked pained, the weight he had been holding placed gently on the floor as he shamelessly watched Tyler move. He leaned forward, balanced his knees on his upper arms, his ass in the air. Jamie whimpered and then pressed a hand to his mouth before turning and leaving the room in the direction of the bathroom. 

Tyler dropped back down to his hands and knees, panting. He shifted so that he was kneeling down, sitting on his feet before bringing his head down. He was breathing heavily. Patrick squinted and turned down his music, trying to get a better look at Tyler’s face. He looked pale. Patrick pulled out his headphones. 

“You okay Segsy?” he called and got a grunt in response. No one else had noticed Tyler, too caught up in their own work outs. Justin was in conversation with Daddy across the way, and Orlando, their conditioning coach, was talking to Val. 

“Tyler?” Patrick slowed down the treadmill; he only had two minutes left anyway. Tyler hadn’t moved. Patrick stepped off the treadmill just as Tyler looked at him. He was pale, his face shiny with sweat in an unhealthy way rather than from physical exertion. 

“Sorry, I’m fine, I just got really dizzy.” He said moving so that instead of kneeling on his feet he was sitting with his legs splayed. 

“You sure? Do you want anything? Water? Gatorade? Do you feel like you’re going to throw up? Do you want me to get Justin?” Patrick asked as Tyler’s expression shifted from one of discomfort to annoyance. 

“I’m fine, I just said that, you don’t need to keep asking,” he snapped. Patrick took a step back and swallowed hard. 

“Sorry, just worried about you kid,” Patrick said, trying to sound nonchalant. Tyler just huffed and pulled on his sneakers before standing up. 

“Well you don’t have to be,” he said, as he bent back over and rolled up his yoga mat. “I’m not your responsibility, I’m an adult,” he also leaned in closer; he glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot. “Plus, it’s not like this is your fucking kid, so back off.” 

Tyler picked up the mat, and stalked over to his cubby by the door to shove the mat into the space. He grabbed his iPhone, screen still cracked, and shoved ear buds into his ears before heading over to the weights. 

Patrick shook his head and climbed back onto the treadmill. He suddenly felt the urge to add another fifteen minutes to his cardio routine. He sped the treadmill up, focusing on the heavy slap of his shoes against the rubber as he ran. Jamie still hadn’t returned from where he disappeared into the locker room. If it had been anyone else, thought Patrick, though anyone else really meant Tyler, Justin and Orlando would have descended upon him, chastising him for not finishing his work out. But it was Jamie, the Stars’ pride and joy, so he was given a free pass. 

Patrick’s extra fifteen minutes ended much sooner than he wanted it to, when he found himself stepping off the treadmill, wiping at the sweat dripping down his face with the hem of his tee shirt. He made his way over to the weights; careful to stay clear of the rotation Segs had started. 

He understood that Tyler was going through a lot, and that he would never be able to understand the full extent of what he was feeling. Patrick also knew he could come on too strong, and that he didn’t know when to let things go, but it was all with good intention. Plus, Patrick thought, adjusting the seat on one of the machines for his own height; Tyler really did need the help. He might not like it, or want it, but Tyler was a kid about to have a kid and he was pulling away from everyone around him. He wasn’t talking to Kaner at all anymore; in what Patrick was sure was some type of guilt that he had gotten knocked up by accident, where Pat had been trying for two years with no success. He was avoiding Brownie’s calls, and calls from his sisters. His relationship with his parents had never been close, and Patrick had a front row seat to watch it grow even further apart. 

He wasn’t going to let Segs get rid of him, too. He wasn’t sure if Tyler was trying to punish himself for getting pregnant, because Patrick had caught him talking to his stomach on their last roadie. Or if he was just ashamed that it had been by accident, and that it was Jamie’s. All Patrick could do was speculate, and not let Tyler get too far away. The younger man wore his heart on his sleeve, except for when it really mattered. 

Patrick finished his workout an hour later, and was stepping out of the showers, a towel slung around his hips when he nearly walked into a fully dressed Tyler. Segs shifted from foot to foot, and somehow managed to glance up at Patrick through his lashes despite them being the same height. 

“Do you want to grab lunch?” he asked softly, running his fingers through his still damp hair. Patrick took a deep breath and nodded. He was going to have to go along with the pace Tyler set, even if he didn’t like it. 

“Sure Ty,” he said, “let me get dressed and then we can go.”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the lack of updates! My beta reader has been swamped with her real job and I have been in the process of moving! Hopefully updates will be more frequent again- thank you so much for reading and sticking with this fic! This chapter is on the shorter side so I’m posting two at once! 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic)
> 
> Another warning would be the discussion of miscarriage in this chapter. 
> 
> Huge thank you to talkingraccoon! If there are any mistakes, they are completely my own! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)

Tyler arched his back, arms thrown to either side as he stretched. He was feeling extremely free now that he had taken his chest and shoulder pads off, and his compression tank top had been thrown into the laundry bin in the middle of the locker room. The pads were starting to feel a bit snugger than Tyler was comfortable with, leaving red marks against his shoulders. He was going to have to brave talking to the equipment guys about getting fitted for the next size up. He had already gone up a size in hockey pants, the new one accommodating his new ass much better. 

“Getting a little chunky there, Segsy, no Body Issue for you this year,” teased Daddy, padding over to playfully pat Tyler’s fuller new form. Tyler flinched away, and Daddy laughed, making his way back over to his own stall after dumping his practice jersey into the bin. He wasn’t sure how to act around Daddy; he had gone from ignoring him completely to acting like nothing was wrong, and like nothing had ever changed. Tyler wasn’t sure what had happened to spark the personality shift, but he was scared to ask.

Tyler adjusted his weight, reaching down to untie his skates, when he felt a sharp pain along the right side of his lower belly. He took a sharp breath, using all of his will power not to curl in on himself. He exhaled through gritted teeth and finished untying his skates, then pulled the tape off of his socks. The pain continued, radiating from the right towards the middle of his abdomen and groin. He swallowed hard, now stripped down to his boxer briefs and made his way towards the showers. 

A hand was draped across his stomach in a manner than was both protective and to shield from preying eyes. He still didn’t look pregnant yet, rather, he looked like he had been overindulging in beer and eating his feelings. He wasn’t sure if things would be better or worse once he actually started to show, once he looked obviously pregnant. The Sharps were still the only ones who knew, and Tyler wasn’t sure if, how or when he was going to tell the rest of the team. Let alone management who were still being kept in the dark. Tyler hadn’t even told his agent yet. 

He showered quickly, the warm water helping to sooth his post-practice soreness, but doing nothing to ease the achy abdomen. It was different from any of the cramps he had had before; this felt like something was pulling. His body wash slipped from his soapy slick palms and Tyler bent down to retrieve it from the wet tiles. When he stood up he was once again hit with the sharp pain, except this time it was even worse. 

Tyler gritted his teeth and rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. His heart rate had picked up in fear; he irrationally wondered if he was having a miscarriage. He turned off the water and grabbed his towel from its hook. He quickly dried his body then ran the towel through his hair before draping it around his hips. 

He was hit with another white-hot shock of pain as he wiggled into his jeans, they caught around his thighs and he had to hop to get them on. He shoved his feet into his Vans; thankful he had invested in a slip on pair, and tugged on a long sleeve tee shirt. The motion of pulling on the tee shirt caused another bolt of pain to lick through his lower belly.

Tyler dug through his wallet, finding Leslie’s card easily enough, the edges of it creased from the number of times he had taken it out and looked at it. “Dr. Leslie Fisher, MD, OBGYN.” He walked down the tunnel, ducking into an empty meeting room, and dialed the cell phone number she had written in ink on the back. His sweaty fingers slipped against the glass touch screen on his phone, catching in some places when they scraped against the cracks in the glass, stinging. 

It rang twice before a cheerfully familiar voice answered. “Hello?” she asked and Tyler swallowed hard. 

“Hey, um, this is Tyler? We met on New Year’s? I’m Abby and Sharpy- Patrick’s friend? You ah, gave me your card?” he managed to stammer out. 

“Tyler! It’s great to hear from you, how are things going?” she asked and Tyler shifted, causing another stab of pain to claw through his abdomen. He pressed his hand against his stomach as if he could will his fetus to stay put. 

“Ah, not great, I um, I still haven’t made an appointment, but I ah, I think something’s wrong? Like it hurts, really bad, and I just, I don’t think it’s right,” he explained.

“Are you experiencing any bleeding?” she asked and Tyler shook his head before realizing that she couldn’t see him, and answered in the negative. 

Leslie hummed. “Why don’t you come see me and we can figure this out?” she said and Tyler exhaled slowly with relief. “I’ll shift a few of my appointments around, and can text you the address. Where are you now?” she asked. 

“I’m at our practice rink, thank you so much,” Tyler said, his voice strained. 

“I’ll see you in around twenty minutes then, we’ll get you all checked out,” she said comfortingly and Tyler nodded, and then realized that she couldn’t see him.

“Thank you so much, I’ll see you then, thank you.” He hung up his phone and shoved it into his back pocket, then made his way back to the locker room for his snapback and keys. He collided with Sharpy as he walked through the door and the older man looked up with a cheekily smile that fell when he saw Tyler’s face. 

“Can you drive me to the doctors?” asked Tyler, he was basically holding his stomach now, as he tried to keep his voice low so that no one else would hear. He was terrified. 

“Of course,” said Sharpy, “When?” 

Tyler swallowed. “Now.” 

“Let’s go,” said Sharpy, and Tyler grabbed his hat, and followed him out to the parking lot, blowing past Jamie as they went. Jamie opened his mouth as if to speak but Tyler continued to speed past him. 

He climbed into Sharpy’s sedan and focused on breathing through his mouth. He ended up bringing his knees up to his chest, hugging himself as he tried to convince himself that he was going to be okay. 

Tyler gave Sharpy the address, and he nodded, plugging it into his GPS as they drove in silence. Tyler was too on edge to speak, and Sharpy knew better than to ask questions. Tyler untucked his legs from his chest, trying to find an alternate position, the movement once again sending out a sharp pain that settled into one of the worst cramps Tyler had ever felt. He tried to swallow back a whimper, with limited success. 

They stopped at a red light and Sharpy looked over at him, concern painted across his face. 

“Just hang in there Ty, we’re almost there,” he whispered and Tyler nodded, trying the legs up position again.

“It just hurts,” he said, knowing he sounding pathetic. He was a hockey player, he’s broken bones and taken a slap shot to the face during juniors, pain shouldn’t bother him anymore. But it wasn’t so much the pain as the crippling fear that he was going to lose his child, and all because he had been too much of a coward to go to the doctors. 

“I don’t want to lose it, what if I lose it?” Tyler panted, the words tearing themselves from his throat no matter how hard he tried to keep them back. 

Sharpy swallowed hard and looked over at Tyler, his voice was low when he spoke, “Are you, are you bleeding at all?” he asked hesitantly and Tyler froze before shaking his head. 

“That’s a good sign then, and we’re almost there, Leslie will get you sorted out,” Sharpy said, reassuring himself as much as he was Tyler. 

Sharpy pulled easily into a parking spot right by the door of a nondescript brick building. He cut the engine, and hovered near the passenger side door, not sure if Tyler needed or wanted help. With gritted teeth Tyler made it into the building, and gave his first name to the girl working the front desk. Sharpy continued to hover, before Tyler was directed back into an exam room, and the receptionist told Sharpy to stay put. 

Tyler wondered if he could have asked her if Sharpy could come. He didn’t want to be alone. A nurse came in and told him to change into the paper gown that was on the table. She handed him a clipboard and told him to fill it out. He obliged, folding his jeans and shirt neatly and setting them next where he now sat on the table. He felt silly sitting in the paper gown wearing a snapback and socks, but his toes were cold as he checked off the boxes. 

He rubbed at his stomach, just above the waistband of his boxer briefs. The door opened and he looked up to see Leslie enter. She smiled and shut the door behind her. Tyler’s heart started racing again. 

“Hi Tyler,” she said cheerfully, accepting the clipboard that Tyler held out for her, and then shook his extended hand. She scanned the forms that Tyler had filled out then nodded. 

“Okay, this all looks good, why don’t you tell me a little about what brought you in so urgently today,” she prompted.

Tyler took a deep breath; he was scared, terrified, but at the same time felt silly for the way he had reacted. “I um, I’ve been having pains? Like they’re sharp and sudden and it’s like coming from my right side down across my belly and then turns into a kind of cramp-y ache, but it’s not like any of the cramps I’ve had before and like I know I fucked up by not seeing a doctor sooner, and I just, is it going to be okay?” he stammered, feeling very young. 

Leslie smiled kindly. “Why don’t we do an ultrasound and see?” she asked, “I think I have an idea of what you’re experiencing, but the ultrasound can confirm it.” 

She had Tyler lie back on the exam table and lift the hospital gown exposing his less than toned stomach. She squirted blue gel onto his stomach, and goose bumps rose across his skin, in response to the cold. 

She turned on the machine and moved the wand across his stomach, smiling when she found what she was looking for, and gestured for Tyler to look at the screen. 

“Everything looks great,” she said smiling. “That’s your baby right there,” she added and Tyler felt tears well in his eyes, everything becoming so real. 

“Really?” he asked dumbly and Leslie nodded. 

“Yep, the pains you were experiencing are called round ligament pain,” she explained, “they’re common during the second trimester, as the thick ligament bands that run up from your groin to the sides of your abdomen stretch and pull to accommodate the increased weight from your uterus.” 

Tyler blinked at her. “So I’m not having a miscarriage?” he asked and Leslie shook her head. 

“Nope, you’re not, these pains are completely normal, even if they can be very unsettling for first time parents, I recommend taking some Tylenol and cuddling up with a heating pad for the next few weeks, it should help with the stretching.” Leslie said. 

Once Tyler was sure he wasn’t going to lose his baby he turned his attention back to the blob on the screen. “So my, it’s, they’re okay?” he asked, any eloquence he may have possessed lost as he watched his blob flicker across the screen. 

“Your baby looks good, development appears right on track for about fourteen weeks,” she said and Tyler nearly chocked on his own saliva. He hadn’t realized he was that far along. Absentmindedly he wondered if the hip pain he had in October was actually his body beginning to accommodate the fetus rather than a reaction to missing a week and a half of Pilates. 

“Do you want to hear the heart beat?” Leslie asked and Tyler nodded. Leslie pressed a few buttons on the machine and its steady pulse filled the room. Tyler was transfixed. 

“That’s, that’s it?” he asked awed. 

Leslie smiled. “Yep. Do you want me to give you a print out from the ultrasound?” she asked and Tyler nodded frantically. She was going to give him a picture of his baby! 

She pushed a few more buttons on the machine, and next thing Tyler knew he holding a plastic-y piece of paper featuring a grainy black and white image of what for now looked like a blob. Leslie handed Tyler a wet wipe and instructed him to wipe off his stomach. She then had him step off of the exam table and onto the scale. She hummed when she took down his weight; he was up to 217 pounds. 

“Okay,” said Leslie, gesturing for Tyler to sit back down on the exam table. “Just to reiterate, you’re roughly fourteen weeks along, putting your due date around July 11th, we can schedule your cesarean section when it gets a bit closer.”

“I’m going to start you on some prenatal vitamins, I would have liked to have had started you on them sooner, but since this is your first appointment, now is as good a time as any. You’re going to come see me about once every three weeks. Normally we would see you every month up until you were seven months, then up it to every two weeks, but we’re going to air on the side of caution with you.”

“Which brings me to my next point. You’re a professional hockey player, a good one too if Wikipedia is anything to go by, and the giant picture of your face on that billboard off the high way.” 

Tyler flushed, trying to make sense of all the information being thrown his way. All he could do was nod; his gaze transfixed on the printed image of his child, the thing that was currently inside of him.

“Am I still going to be able to play?” he asked, the words falling from his lips before he could fully process them. He didn’t want to do anything to harm his child, but at the same time, this was hockey.

Leslie nodded slowly. “At this stage, I think that it is safe for you to continue to play at least for the time being. We’re going to be heavily monitoring your pregnancy, hence the more frequent appointments, but you should be okay to play until you’re about twenty-six, twenty seven weeks long, as long as you’re physically feeling up to it, which I kind of tend to doubt you will be at that stage. I do recommend however looking into adding a little bit more padding to your stomach, something that would be able to help absorb the shock from a hit.” 

Tyler nodded. He could do that. He thought of the different pieces players wore to help protect healing injuries. 

“We’re also going to be monitoring your weight gain very closely,” Leslie said, “because you’re an athlete and started this whole thing with a very low body fat percentage, you’re going to need to fall on the upper side of the acceptable gain range, something that might be harder to maintain now that you’ve reached the second trimester.” 

Tyler made a face but nodded, in agreement, he had found that he was hungry nearly all the time now, and this was going to be one of the few times in his life that he would truly be able to indulge. 

“Now, you haven’t mentioned him, but I still need to ask, is the other father involved?” Leslie asked slowly and Tyler shook his head.

“We were in a relationship that ended before I found out I was pregnant, he’s no longer in the picture, and I don’t see him coming back into it any time soon, I’m ah, not even sure I’m going to tell him at all,” Tyler said, his tone coming out extremely guilty even though he knew he had no reason to feel that way. Jamie had made it very clear how he felt about Tyler. 

“That’s perfectly fine,” Leslie said, “as long as you have a support system in place.” 

Tyler smiled weakly thinking of Sharpy and Abby, his smile faded, he felt guilty for burdening them.

“I have one more question,” said Leslie, “and then you’re free to go.” 

Her solemn expression made Tyler squirm from his place on the exam table. 

“When we first met you expressed a lot of anxiety, and some of it seemed debilitating, I believe it would be very beneficial, to not only your mental health and personal well being, but also for the health of your baby, for stress can be very detrimental to your growing baby’s health, if you considered going on a low dosage of an anti anxiety medication.” Leslie said. 

Tyler blinked at her. Opened his mouth then shut it. Medication was never something he has considered. He had just accepted the crawling out of his skin feeling to be his new normal. 

“Do you think it could help?” he asked slowly, “and it wouldn’t hurt the baby?” 

“Not at all, and I think it would be something that could really help you,” Leslie said and Tyler nodded. 

“Do you want me to write you a prescription?” She asked, and slowly Tyler nodded. 

“Start with talking half a pill every day for seven days, and then we’re going to move you up to a full pill every morning, for at least the duration of your pregnancy.” Leslie explained. 

“Ah, thank you,” Tyler stammered, he felt like he was in sensory overload, today had been emotionally draining, and he had been flung so much new information, he didn’t know where to start. 

“Of course,” Leslie chirped, “you can make your next appointment with the receptionist on the way out, because of your profession we’ll keep all your documents labeled with your first name and middle initial only, helping to add another layer of privacy. Don’t forget to try that heating pad!” 

Tyler didn’t even have a chance to say thank you again before she was gone.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I’m so sorry that updates have been slower, real life has been crazy and hectic! Thank you so much for sticking with this fic! <3 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic) Additionally there is mention of Patrick Kane in this chapter even though he does not appear. 
> 
> Huge thank you to talkingraccoon, she’s a superstar for betaing this! However, if there are any mistakes, they are completely my own! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)

Tyler fidgeted with his scarf in the elevator, shifting his weight side to side, and tapping his foot with anticipation and nervousness as they descended the floors. Patrick placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, but it did nothing to quell the edginess that was leaking off of Tyler in heavy waves. He flushed, the pink tinge to his cheeks, softened in pregnancy, making him look as if he was stumbling through his teenage years instead of preparing to have a child of his own. He coughed, leaning into his elbow. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, trying to still his body with limited results. Patrick smiled and shook his head in understanding. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, keeping his voice low even though they were alone in the elevator as it continued to crawl to the ground floor. “We lost one to two, I think Marchand and Bergeron would understand if you bailed.” 

Tyler froze and shook his head in disagreement. “No, no, I,” he swallowed hard, “I only get to see Marchy twice during the season, when we play each other, and he’s still one of my best friends. I would regret it too much if I didn’t see him.” 

He thought about what Leslie had said about maintaining his relationships and support systems. Marchy had always been one of his best friends and biggest allies.

Patrick nodded in understanding, thinking that it would be a little like if he bailed on seeing Seabs and Duncs or even Johnny and Pat. 

“Well, hopefully they have somewhere good picked out,” said Patrick cheerfully and Tyler flushed. 

“We’re going to this hole in the wall in the North End,” he said, “it was my favorite when I lived here.”

He said the last part so quietly that Patrick wanted to ask him if it got any easier walking through the visitor’s locker room of an arena that once used to be your home. Playing in Chicago had been a white-hot ache inside his stomach, like he had swallowed mouthful after mouthful of burning coals, leaving blister burns down his throat as he struggled to breathe. He hadn’t even had a chance to grab a drink with his old teammates before he was on a plane to Detroit. 

Patrick thought of the way Tyler had curled in on himself, on the bus ride from Logan airport to their hotel, the way he had started to point out landmarks like an overexcited child before realizing what he was doing and slumping back in his seat, keeping his eyes downcast.

It had been three years and Tyler still wore Boston like a scab, red and irritated from constant picking, never given the chance to fully heal. He tried to cover it, like the tiny 617 on the inside of his wrist, now hidden beneath another layer of ink. But it was always there, like a raw nerve stimulated at just the wrong moment. 

Marchand and Bergeron were waiting in the lobby, hats pulled low and collars pulled up high to avoid recognition. Marchand’s face lit up when he saw Tyler and ran at him full tilt, Tyler mirrored the action, except he pulled away at the last second, side stepping to soften the blow, a hand subconsciously falling to protect his middle. 

Patrick nodded at Patrice as they made their way outside, Brad and Tyler caught up in frantic conversation, talking over each other as they desperately tried to catch up. Patrick didn’t realize how big of a deal it was that Tyler had asked him to come out with his Boston friends, until he had fallen into step with Patrice, Brad and Tyler leading them to the T stop. He suddenly realized that these men, and this city, were not the chip that Tyler wore on his shoulder. But rather they were ingrained in his bones, parts of it mixed with his flesh and blood. For better or for worse, Boston would always be a part of Tyler, and he would always love the city. Tyler had confided that Jamie had never understood the love for a city that had traded him. Hadn’t liked the Red Sox hats that Tyler still proudly wore, or the Free Brady shirt that had been a key part in his summer wardrobe. 

He thought about an interview he, Tyler, Jamie and Daddy had done, just after Patrick’s trade had been finalized. They had been asked what was one thing they wanted to do when they retired from playing. Jamie wanted to coach, Daddy had wanted to travel. Patrick had said he wanted to spend time with his girls. Tyler had gained a faraway look in his eyes, and said he wanted to run the Boston Marathon. He had been in the city when the bombing happened, he explained, only a few blocks away in his former apartment in the Back Bay. It was something that he needed to do. 

The reporter had laughed, had asked if his body would be up to running 26.2 miles. Tyler had grinned and said it would have to be. 

The train came and they boarded the trolley. Instead of grabbing a pole like the rest of them Tyler flopped into one of the few open seats. There was a faded and peeling sticker above the seat proclaiming that it was reserved primarily for the disabled, elderly and pregnant. He looked tired behind the grin he was wearing, before turning to cough into his elbow. Patrick thought about Tyler’s drunken story of riding the T with Marchand and throwing up in one of the cars. The train jerked, this was once part of Tyler’s everyday life. The look on his face told Patrick he missed it. 

A few stops later they departed the tunnels, rejoining the cold world. The January air stung Patrick’s cheeks as they walked along the winding cobblestone streets; it felt like the greeting of an older lover. He had missed the cold. 

“We’re also getting cannoli’s after,” Tyler announced as they passed Mike’s Pastries. Marchand laughed, Tyler did a spin in the street, grinning from ear to ear at the light dusting of snow that had begun falling. 

“You say that every time but then after dinner you say if you eat one you’ll die,” Brad teased and Tyler’s wind-abused cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink. Snowflakes clung to the dark wool of his coat. 

“Yeah, but I really want one this time,” Tyler said, cheekily. Patrick snorted. Tyler’s appetite had been ridiculous ever since his morning sickness had calmed down. 

Patrice spoke to the Italian man standing in the doorway of the small restaurant before stepping aside. Their group entered and sat at a booth in a corner in the back. They unwrapped their bodies from the damp wool of winter coats, draping them on the hooks beside the booth to dry.

Tyler sat so that he was sandwiched between the wall and Patrick, Marchand sitting across from him with Patrice across from Patrick. A waitress came and brought a basket of bread to eat while they scanned the menus. Tyler nearly knocked over Patrice’s water in his haste to commandeer a piece. Patrick smiled at his eagerness.

The waitress came back and Patrice ordered bruschetta as an appetizer, and a bottle of wine for the table to share. The waitress looked at Tyler, and asked to see his ID. Tyler flushed. 

“Can I get a ginger ale?” he asked sheepishly, the waitress huffed and turned away from the table and Marchand laughed. 

“Dude, did you forget your license or something? We would have vouched for you,” he said, amusement coloring his voice, “though I can’t believe you got carded.” 

“I don’t think I ever saw that happen when you were even underage,” Patrice said, “do you want me to get you a beer or something? I feel bad.”

“Naw, I’m good, thank you though,” said Tyler, falling into his polite Canadian routine, “not really in the mood tonight,” he said. 

Patrick watched as he broke his bread into little pieces, he could feel Tyler shifting his weight, his newly rounded hips almost wiggling as he tried to find a comfortable position, anxiety bleeding off of him in heavy waves. He let go of the piece of bread and let his hands fall to his lap. Patrick was willing to bet one of them was resting on his newly formed bump. 

At four months Tyler had begun to show. It was still easily hidden behind loose shirts, but if one were to look close enough, or to catch Tyler in his spandex, or even shirtless, it would be obvious that his new weight gain was not the beer belly he was teased for in the locker room. 

Patrick shifted the attention away from Tyler and began talking about the snow, and how he missed it. They didn’t frequent a lot of snowy climates in their division. Marchand laughed, asking if he hadn’t gotten enough of it living in Chicago for so long. Bergeron knocked into his shoulder in a teasing manner, and called him a bad Canadian. Marchand huffed but Tyler was grinning again. Crisis averted. 

Soon Patrice had the table in stitches with a story of Sidney Crosby’s missing Canada Croc’s from the Sochi, and how Evgeni Malkin of all people managed to save the day. Patrick added commentary where he could, however most of his time in Sochi was spent playing marriage counselor to Pat and Johnny. He didn’t mind though, Johnny’s drunken ode to Kaner’s curls was the stuff of legends. 

While they waited for their food to come Tyler flushed and asked Patrick if he would mind letting him out of the booth so that he could use the bathroom. Patrick rolled his eyes at Tyler’s apologetic tone but moved anyway, only to let him back in a few minutes later. Their food had arrived while he was gone. 

Patrice was telling a story about his son Zach, who was nearly three months old. Tyler was listening intently, fascination painted across his features, a hand resting against his own stomach as they ate. Tyler was silent, nearly inhaling his food, at the same time he thought longingly about the cannoli he was getting for dessert. 

There was a lull in the conversation, everyone focused on their food. Even if Tyler was the only one with child, they were still a group of hockey players that had just finished a tough game. Patrick was currently destroying his lasagna. It was good, not as good as Abby’s recipe, but delicious nonetheless.

He watched Tyler out of the corner of his eye; he had paused to cough into his elbow. Patrick took a sip of his wine, enjoying the pairing. Patrice had good taste. He let his mind wander, suddenly realizing just how tired he was. Selfishly he was grateful Tyler had sheepishly announced on the train that he wasn’t up to going out for drinks after dinner. He wanted his cannoli and then to go to bed. 

Tyler was rambling on about something to do with ice cream and Marchand was listening along intently, a thoughtful look on his face. 

“You’re pregnant aren’t you?” Brad interjected calmly, when Tyler stopped to cough. Tyler’s cough turned into a chock, as he gagged on his own saliva, his hand falling away from his stomach, his eyes widening with fear. Patrick turned to rub his back when Tyler leaned forward to cough into the napkin held up to his lips. 

“What?” Tyler asked, his voice raw, his throat irritated. Patrice was looking at Brad as if he wanted to send him back to Canada. 

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Brad repeated, this time emphasizing the question in his tone. “You’re not drinking, we’ve been coming here since you were eighteen and you never order gnocchi, you don’t even like gnocchi. Also you hate ice cream, it’s part of your weird cows milk thing,” Brad listed, and Tyler looked down at his plate, which was still a fourth full of the potato dumplings in red sauce. Usually cows milk weirded him out, he had thought way too hard about where it came from when he was in middle school and hadn’t been able to drink it since. 

Brad continued, “Not to be a dick but you’ve definitely gained some weight, you looked like you had a bit of a gut when you stood up. You’re way too vain to just like let that happen, so it’s definitely got to be a baby bump. Plus, I know you’re G-positive, it was something you told me about when we first played together, and I went with you to go buy Plan B after you blacked out during the cup joy ride,” Marchand finished. 

The man in question was sitting with his mouth open in horror. Patrice looked like he wanted to murder his line mate. Patrick dropped his hand to Tyler’s thigh, rubbing what he hoped were soothing circles against the rough denim. 

Tyler was still speechless. He opened and closed his mouth, doing a pretty good impression of a fish. Patrick wasn’t sure if he was supposed to speak up. He just continued to rub the circles onto Tyler’s thigh. Abstractly he wondered if Tyler was having a panic attack. Patrick knew that he had started taking an anxiety medication, his pregnancy throwing his hormones all out of whack, putting him on edge even more than usual. 

Finally, after what felt like decades of an uncomfortable silence, Tyler swallowed hard, and cleared his throat before speaking. “Yeah,” he confirmed, he cleared his throat again. “I am.” 

Patrice shifted the murderous gaze he had pinned on Marchand to look at Tyler with soft eyes. He looked and sounded more excited than Patrick had been expecting when he spoke. 

“How far along are you?” Patrice asked, making it clear that he still very much had baby fever following the birth of his son. 

Tyler coughed, then looked up sheepishly through his lashes. “Ah sixteen weeks, so four months,” he said, his hand resting on his bump beneath the table. 

Patrick still didn’t know what to say, and Marchand had the decency to look guilty, when Patrice turned back to him.

“Congrats man,” said Marchand awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Tyler smiled faintly. “Ah thanks,” he said, eyes downcast once again. “It’s ah, can you keep it just between us? I ah, the other parent um, he doesn’t know, and I don’t think I’m going to tell him, and like the league, like, I’m not, I’m not like Crosby, I just can’t peace out for a bit and have a kid you know? And like my, ah, my doctor said that I’m still good to play for a bit longer, so um, like, yeah,” Tyler finished lamely.

Marchand and Patrice were nodding along, looking spooked and Tyler started shifting uncomfortably again. 

“Is everyone done?” Patrick asked, flagging down the waitress before he got an answer. “Let’s go get cannoli’s.”

Brad threw his credit card at the waitress before she could even give them the bill. He signed the slip before anyone could say anything and they bundled up to brave the cold once again. 

Once they were outside, Brad turned and wrapped Tyler in a hug. Though Tyler towered over him, the younger man clung to Marchand as if he was a lifeline. Patrick turned his gaze back to Patrice and thought about how for the first three years of Tyler’s career that’s what Marchand was.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry that updates have been, and are going to be slower moving forward. Real life is crazy busy! Thank you so much for sticking with this fic! 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic) Additionally there is mention of Patrick Kane in this chapter even though he does not appear. 
> 
> As always, thank you to talkingraccoon, she’s a rockstar for betaing this! However, if there are any mistakes, they are completely my own! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and sticking with this despite the delays in updates! Let me know what you think of this chapter an this fic in general! <3

A cough tore its way from Tyler’s chest, he panted, trying to catch his breath before he started coughing again. He stood up, holding onto the wall for support as he made his way to the master bathroom. He braced his hands on the counter, spread onto either side of the sink, and coughing, gagging up the thick mucus that had settled into his lungs. 

He was breathing heavily, trying to bring oxygen into his lungs, but his chest hitched and he found himself coughing again. He was beyond thankful that he had been pulled from the All Star Weekend roster, even though it meant a game suspension. He sluggishly opened the drawer of the vanity, groping around for the thermometer. Leslie had told him to monitor the low-grade fever he was sporting, and that if it persisted or got worse to go to the emergency room. Tyler ripped the cap off and held the thermometer under his tongue. 

He tried to suppress another cough, desperately trying to wait until the thermometer beeped. Tyler was thankful that Haylee was watching Marshall and Cash for the weekend, even though he was still in town. It beeped and he finally let himself cough, the involuntary action rattling through his body. 

Fuck. He still had a fever. Another coughing fit assaulted his chest, and he hunched over, bracing his hands on his knees. He sent a silent apology to his baby, whose home was currently being shaken. 

Tyler groaned. The moan felt pathetic even to his own ears. He felt pathetic. He turned back to the sink and hacked up more greenish phlegm. It was streaked with blood. 

He started coughing again, the motion making his sides hurt even more than they did before. He was worried that he was going to crack a rib. His chest felt tight, each inhale and exhale was strained and sent pain radiating throughout his upper body. 

He turned on the sink, letting the spray wash away with bloody phlegm that had clung to the side of the basin. He had been running the fever for nearly three days now, and the blood would have pushed him closer to the edge if he didn’t feel so all around awful. He knew that blood was never a good sign. He pressed his palm to his bump, visible in the way that his oversized white tee shirt that clung to his body with the sweat of sickness. 

He shivered and pulled his BU hoodie on overtop. The soft, warm material was comforting against his skin. It also hid his bump. He made his way downstairs, holding tightly to the bannister. He had to stop twice to cough; his shoulder slumped when he made it to the bottom. His keys were sitting in his replacement ceramic bowl on the kitchen counter. He double-checked that he had his cellphone; it was in the left pocket of his gray sweatpants, the heavy weight of it causing the pants to sit low on his hips, his stomach rounding out over the waistband. 

His insurance card was in his wallet, underneath his keys. He stopped in the garage to cough, and pulled himself into his Audi. He had finally gotten the side fixed after he scrapped it against the entrance markers of Davis Field. He sat in the drivers seat; his head leaned forward, resting against the steering wheel. He couldn’t breathe through his nose, leaving him panting like a dog, trying to suck air into his lungs. 

He reached up and pressed the start button on the dashboard, the engine purring to life. He slowly backed out of the garage, his headlights cutting through the dark night like a hot knife through butter.

He had to pull onto the shoulder of the road, chest rattling as he coughed. He felt light headed, he was wondering if he should have called someone to pick him up. But then again, whom could he have called? Sharpy had been sent to the All Star Games with Jamie in his place, and he wasn’t bothering Abby with this when she had Maddy and Sadie to look after. 

He could have called an Uber, but part of him was still paranoid. Dallas wasn’t a hockey city, not like Boston, meaning his exploits weren’t splashed across the tabloids, and most people in his home city didn’t know or care who he was. But he was still on thin ice with Jenny from PR, and didn’t want to rock the boat. Then again being found passed out on the side of the road, or crashing his sedan, wouldn’t be the best thing for his, or the Stars’ image. 

He didn’t remember the rest of the drive, it felt like he blinked and the next thing he knew he was easing into a parking spot. He pulled himself out of his car and locked it, flicking the hood of his sweatshirt up, putting his face in shadow as he trudged across the parking lot. His Vans squeaked along the coated concrete, the ground still damp from the rain showers earlier, and the air almost heavy. Though that could have just been Tyler’s abused lungs. 

He wasn’t sure how he managed to play nearly twenty-one minutes in the last game before the break three days before. Justin had told him he most likely had bronchitis and to get some rest and stay hydrated before having him pulled from the All Star roster. Leslie had told him to monitor his symptoms at his most recent appointment, and to go to the emergency room if they got worse. 

Tyler figured that the bloody phlegm, the tight feeling in his chest and the persistent fever counted as worse. The air suddenly felt colder as Tyler walked through the sliding glass doors of the emergency room and he shivered, trying to snuggle deeper into the excess fabric of his hoodie, even if it didn’t hang off of his frame the way it used to, the way it did when he bought it. 

He leaned heavily onto the receptionist’s desk when he walked in, she looked up at him over her glasses. 

“What brings you in here tonight?” she asked, her southern Texan accent thick. Tyler swallowed hard then turned away from her to cough into his elbow. 

“I have bronchitis,” Tyler explained, his voice raspy, once he was done coughing for the moment. His voice lowered and he looked around. “I’m also pregnant and my doctor said to come in if my fever didn’t break, or if I had a hard time breathi-” he cut off suddenly, another coughing fit causing his body to spasm. “And I can’t really breathe,” he finished lamely. He felt awful. Part of him regretting coming to the hospital at all. He wished he were at home in his warm bed, curled up with his puppies. 

The woman eyed him critically. “Name?” she said, and Tyler gave it to her, spelling out Seguin to make sure she had it right. 

“Any allergies?” she asked and Tyler shook his head no. A moment later he had a plastic hospital bracelet attached to his wrist, announcing that he was Tyler P. Seguin, born January 31, 1992, and had been admitted to the hospital on January 30, 2016 along with a patient ID number. The woman gave him a facemask to wear because of his cough, so that he wouldn’t spread his germs throughout the entire emergency room. He was given a clipboard and told to have a seat in the waiting area.

He filled out the clipboard on autopilot. Tyler P. Seguin, born January 31, 1992, no allergies, pregnant, yes, currently seventeen weeks along. He frowned when he saw the box for previous hospitalization and surgeries. They weren’t going to all fit. They didn’t make these forms with hockey players in mind, Tyler mused before being hit with another coughing fit. He lifted his mask away from his mouth and gagged up phlegm into a tissue he snagged from the box on the small table next to him. 

His name was called a moment later, and Tyler dragged himself over to where a tired looking nurse was standing. His pale green scrubs made him look washed out. 

“I’m Brendon,” said the nurse, his tone cheerful despite his outward appearance. Tyler tried to smile, but just didn’t have the strength to. 

Brendon took the clipboard and looked over Tyler’s responses. He had sheepishly left the occupation box blank. He wasn’t sure if Brendon recognized him, or just didn’t care, but he gave no comment, adding the paper to a manila folder. He took Tyler’s temperature and blood pressure, and made a note of both in the folder. He then waited for Tyler to finish coughing before speaking.

“Have you taken anything for the fever?” he asked.

“I’ve been taking Tylenol every four hours, and nothing has changed,” Tyler said, “last time was about an hour ago.” 

Brendon made another note in the folder and stood up. “I’m going to start you on an IV,” he said, “then we’re going to move you into a room until the doctor can come see you.”

Tyler swallowed hard but nodded. Being moved into a room so quickly was never a good sign. Brendon fitted him with an IV, and Tyler didn’t even notice the needle piercing the delicate skin on the back of his hand before being taped in place. 

Brendon brought him into a private room and directed him to climb up onto the bed. He asked him to remove his sweatshirt and tee shirt, and to put on the hospital gown instead. Luckily he was allowed to keep his sweatpants. He flushed when the nurse explained his room was private so he wouldn’t spread his illness to other patients and so that his coughing wouldn’t disrupt others. Once he was in bed, Brendon attached his port to the IV line, explaining that Tyler was dehydrated. 

A few minutes later another nurse came in, she looked younger than Tyler was expecting, her bright orange hair pilled onto the top of her head in a messy bun. She introduced herself as Daisy and Tyler couldn’t help but sluggishly think that it fit her. 

She placed a clip on his finger, explaining that she was checking his oxygen levels. She frowned when the machine beeped and signaled that it was finished. 

“We’re going to hook you up to some oxygen,” she explained, “your levels are low for someone of your age and fitness level, they’re even more worrisome for someone who is pregnant.” 

Instead of answering, Tyler found himself coughing. She hooked him up to an oxygen mask and told him she would be back in a few minutes to perform and ultra sound so they could check that his baby wasn’t in distress, and then the doctor would be in to examine him. 

Tyler inhaled slowly, the pure oxygen he was breathing seeming to help, but that could have just been his imagination, the placebo effect. He still had to pull the mask away from his face to cough however. He wished that he didn’t have to wear the full-face mask, the one that covered his nose and mouth; however, he was too congested for just the nasal tubes. 

He sluggishly found himself drifting in and out of alertness when he felt his phone vibrate from its position on the bed next to his thigh. He reached down and picked it up, smiling when he saw he had a text from Brownie. 

He frowned when he read it. “Where are you?” It said. Tyler coughed again. Following his breakup with Jamie, and then being what he thought was so sick, he had begun to pull away from pretty much everyone. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to Pat, and his relationship with Marchy had just recently been repaired and rekindled after their Boston road trip. Marchy was living up to his nickname, The Pest, and not leaving Tyler alone. He also felt guilty, having called Tyler out on his pregnancy. But Brownie had never liked Jamie, never liked how he could sometimes subtly put Tyler down. 

At first, pride had kept Tyler from reaching out, then habit, then panic. Tyler didn’t know how to tell Brownie that he was pregnant. So he had defaulted to his tried and true method of dealing with his problems by avoiding them. 

They still texted, but Tyler always made sure he had practice, or a workout, or a meeting, or was out when Brownie wanted to call or Skype. 

“Dallas?” Tyler texted back carefully, he didn’t want Brownie to know he was at the hospital. He would blow it up into something that it didn’t need to be. Brownie knew he had been pulled form the All Star Roster because he was sick, but as usual Tyler had downplayed the whole thing. 

“I thought you were sick,” Brownie sent back less than thirty seconds later and Tyler frowned again. His head was starting to hurt. 

“I am?” he sent back, the message barely had time to send before the three dots appeared showing that Brownie was typing. 

“Your Audi is gone and you’re not home, and the pups aren’t at your house, where are you Segs?” Brownie sent back. How did Brownie know his car was gone and that he wasn’t home? Tyler wondered before his heart jumped into his throat. Brownie had a key to Tyler’s house. Brownie was supposed to be in Hartford. But then Tyler remembered that the AHL had the same break for the All Star Weekend that the NHL did and he swore, before being cut off by a coughing fit. 

Brownie didn’t even give Tyler a chance to respond, before his phone was ringing. He swiped his finger against the screen, pleased that he had gotten the glass replaced. He pulled his oxygen mask away from his face to answer. 

“Hello?” he croaked, hating the way his voice sounded. 

“Surprise! I came to surprise you for your birthday, since you weren’t going to Nashville anymore, now where are you?” Brownie asked. 

Tyler coughed. “Hospital,” he said softly, guilt heavy in his tone. 

“What?!” Brownie exclaimed, of all the answers he had been expecting that wasn’t one. 

“Yeah, I um, my fever won’t break, I have bronchitis and I was having a hard time breathing,” he explained dumbly. His brain felt heavy. He wondered if he was making any sense. 

“Are you there by yourself? Tyler?! What hospital?” Brownie asked, his voice sounded weird. Tyler felt dizzy. One of the machines he was hooked up to beeped. He didn’t remember being hooked up to a machine. Tyler gave him the name and hung up the phone. Daisy the nurse was standing in the doorway, pushing an ultrasound cart into the room. 

She explained to Tyler that they were going to perform an ultrasound now; she lifted up his hospital gown, exposing the convex of his stomach. He whimpered when she squeezed the gel onto his skin, goose bumps rising along the feverish flesh. He had fine silvery red stretch marks spider webbing up his sides as his abdomen rounded, trying to accommodate his growing uterus. 

She hummed and explained that his baby looked okay for now, but they were going to monitor the two of them. She wiped off Tyler’s stomach and a few minutes later a doctor came in and introduced herself as Dr. Hawthorne.

Tyler raised a hand weakly in hello. She looked over the folder with his information, and then listened to his breathing. She winced when Tyler started coughing. 

“I’m going to send you down for a chest x-ray, make sure that your cough hasn’t turned into pneumonia,” she explained, Tyler’s fingers tightened involuntarily in the blankets on the bed. 

“Is the radiation safe?” Tyler asked, and Dr. Hawthorne nodded kindly. Her gray ponytail making him feel safe, finalizing the grandmotherly aura she carried about her. 

“Yep, it’s a low dosage, and we’ll be sure to keep you covered with a lead smock.” Dr. Hawthorne explained. A moment later, Daisy returned and explained that they were going to be wheeling him to radiology now. 

They finished the x-rays quickly; Tyler’s case being bumped to the top of the list due to the high risk involved. When Daisy brought Tyler back to the room, Brownie was waiting, sitting in the plastic chair in the corner. 

He stood up when Tyler was brought in. He was silent as Daisy rehooked up his IV, then replaced a collection of heart monitors across his chest and sides. She then placed a few larger sticky pads on his stomach to monitor the baby. Daisy told him she would be back in a bit once Dr. Hawthorne had looked at his x-rays; however, he had been officially admitted and would be spending at least the night. Tyler kept his eyes downcast and tried to suppress his cough as Brownie watched him critically. He pulled the oxygen mask back onto his face, trying to keep his breath steady. 

Once Daisy was gone, Brownie stood up, and walked over to Tyler’s bedside cautiously. 

“You really got yourself fucked up this time wifey,” Brownie said softly, grasping the hand that didn’t have an IV port attached to it. 

Tyler smiled weakly. “Just a bit B,” he said softly. Brownie rubbed his thumb over the back of Tyler’s hand. 

“So this is why you were avoiding me,” Brownie said gesturing to Tyler’s middle. 

Tyler flushed and looked down, he refused to meet Brownie’s eyes as he coughed. He couldn’t believe that Brownie was in Dallas, in his hospital room, where he was currently being treated because he managed to get himself so sick he couldn’t breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” Tyler said hoarsely. Suddenly he wondered if Brownie was even really there, or if it was just a fever dream. 

“Wifey no,” said Brownie suddenly; he looked like he wanted to wrap Tyler in a hug. He suddenly felt like he was sixteen again and sobbing into Brownie’s shoulder in juniors because he had gotten into another fight with his mom. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Brownie said, pushing any annoyance he had felt that Tyler had cut him out down. “Is it Jamie’s?” he asked slowly, looking back to Tyler’s middle. Tyler nodded slowly before coughing again. “Oh, wifey,” he said kissing the top of Tyler’s sweaty head. Brownie suddenly felt very out of his depth. 

Dr. Hawthorne came back in a few minutes later, and with relief explained that despite her fears, Tyler did not have pneumonia. She added a breathing treatment to his oxygen and wrote him a prescription for an inhaler, an antibiotic z-pack, and codeine cough syrup. She stressed that all three were safe for him to take. However, they were keeping him overnight for observation, and placed cool compresses at his pressure points, to help bring his fever down. 

Daisy came back and gave Tyler a pill to help him sleep; he was instructed to leave the oxygen mask on as much as he could, and not to mess with the compresses. She told Brownie that he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted, heavily implying that she thought he was the father of Tyler’s child. 

“Brownie?” Tyler asked when Daisy was gone, pulling the mask away from his face. His voice weak. “Will you hold me?” his words were slurred from the drugs in his system and Brownie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Tyler looked so young. 

“I don’t know if we’ll both fit wifey,” Brownie said, and Tyler whimpered. 

“Please?” he asked faintly and Brownie sighed. He was never in the business of denying Segs anything. Tyler wiggled to the side of the narrow hospital bed, glassy and feverish eyes turned on Brownie who sighed and took off his sneakers, setting them by the small table that Tyler’s clothes were sitting on. 

He pulled himself into the bed, adjusting his weight, shifting to that he could pull Tyler towards him so that Tyler was sitting with his back flush against Brownie’s chest. Tyler’s skin was hot to the touch. His breath hitching periodically, a coughing fit tearing through his chest shaking his entire body. 

Brownie sat running his fingers through Tyler’s dirty hair. It was getting long, starting to curl at the ends. His other hand wrapped around Tyler’s middle, his palm settled over Tyler’s hospital gown over the curve of his stomach. Brownie continued to pet Tyler’s hair, thoughts swirling through his mind, but they could wait until the next morning when Tyler would hopefully be feeling better. 

His heart was breaking for the younger man. Sometimes it felt like he could never catch a break, could never find a calm patch of water on which to live his life. Tyler’s breathing evened out, signaling that he was asleep. Brownie hoped that Tyler wasn’t trying to do this whole thing alone. He had a tendency to block people out when he was emotionally compromised, retreating into his shell. It had taken Brownie nearly six months after Tyler’s trade from Boston to Dallas to pull him back into his normal orbit. By then he had even fallen into bed, and then in love, with Jamie Benn. 

Brownie had never liked Jamie, didn’t like the way he put Tyler down and bossed him around, the way he belittled Tyler and sometimes made him feel as if he wasn’t good enough. But Tyler loved Jamie, and Brownie loved Tyler too much to keep pushing the issue. He just hoped that he had someone, anyone by his side while he dealt with the shit hand he had been given. Tyler’s phone was vibrating from where it lay on the bed. He had texts from Brad Marchand and Patrick Sharp. Maybe Tyler would be okay, maybe he wasn’t as alone as he tried to make himself. 

Brownie sighed, Tyler snuffling in his sleep. What a way for Tyler to spend his twenty fourth birthday.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start with apologizing that it has taken me almost a month to update. I will hopefully have another chapter up a lot sooner. Real life has been crazy busy for both me and talkingraccoon! Both of us have been overcome with work and real life. 
> 
> Therefore, I want to say a huge thank you to a rockstar, my Roommate, who knows nothing about hockey, and even less about fanficition but was nice enough to give me a helping hand with editing this chapter while talkingraccoon was busy, so thank you so much Roommate! Also thank you as always talkingraccoon for being awesome and listening to all my fic rambles. 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic) Additionally there is mention of Patrick Kane in this chapter even though he does not appear.
> 
> Thank you for reading and sticking with this despite the delays in updates! Let me know what you think of this chapter an this fic in general! <3

Tyler puttered barefoot around the kitchen, killing time before he had to get changed for practice. Not that his attire would be much different, he would probably just trade his pizza-stained tee shirt for a clean one. 

He smiled at the ultrasound picture from his twenty-week appointment that morning, after morning skate, that he had taped to the refrigerator. He put his hand to his stomach. He was really starting to show, leading to some clever tailoring and a large bribe to keep the whole thing quiet. He could have found out the gender today, but chose to keep it a surprise. 

His phone beeped with a reminder that it was time to take his inhaler. Even though he was mostly over his bronchitis, Leslie was still keeping him on the inhaler. She explained that it was helping to keep his lungs open and oxygen levels up, something that was important since he was still going to be playing for at least a few more weeks. 

Even just thinking about telling the team put him on edge, however, he was starting to think that Justin suspected something was up, especially considering the way Tyler was avoiding him at all costs. He had to sit down with the team nutritionist the day before and go over “any and all changes to his diet” due to his new weight gain. He left the meeting with a new nutrition plan he threw away as soon as he got home. He was still scoring well on the fitness tests, so they were having a hard time figuring out what was going on with his body. Tyler was purposely giving vague answers and implying that maybe he was starting to regulate with age. 

Orlando, their conditioning coach, was just going with it. Telling Tyler in heavily accented English that despite what their nutritionists said, he didn’t care how much weight Tyler gained. He didn’t care as long as he didn’t dropped to a dangerous low during the season like he had the past two years. As long as he continued to score well on their fitness evaluations, and on the ice, there was nothing to worry about.

Tyler pulled a Tupperware of frozen lasagna that Brownie had made during his visit out of the freezer before frowning and putting it back. It wasn’t what Tyler was in the mood for. He missed Brownie and was happy that his impromptu visit had helped to kill any of the weirdness lingering between them following Tyler’s departure off the map, Even if Brownie had spent the entire visit taking care of Tyler’s sick ass.

He paced around the kitchen. He was hungry but he didn’t know what he wanted to eat. Maybe he should just order Thai food, he thought, he always loved Thai food. Or maybe ice cream. He was pretty sure he still had a pint of Ben and Jerry’s shoved in the back behind a bag of frozen peas for emergencies. 

The ice cream was where Tyler hoped it would be. Score. He sat it on the counter to soften. His phone ringing from where he had left by the stove. He answered it without checking to see who was calling. Putting it on speakerphone as he dug around the silverware drawer trying to find a clean spoon. He wasn’t sure how he could have so many forks, but not a single spoon. Maybe he was eating more ice cream than he thought.

“Mom saw pictures of you on twitter at McDonalds eating chicken nuggets at 2am, she said you looked like you were letting yourself go.” His sister Cassidy informed him the second the call connected. He couldn’t even get a word in to defend himself before he heard Candace yelling in the background. 

“That’s not true!” she called, “she said you looked fat!” 

“I’m going to hang up if you’re just going to be mean to me,” Tyler said, picking the phone up, and taking it off speaker so that it was squished between his ear and shoulder. He put the Ben and Jerry’s he had just pulled out of the freezer back. He suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. 

“But for real though, is everything okay?” Cassidy asked, her voice going soft. Tyler missed his sisters. He swallowed hard. 

“Are things okay with you and Jamie?” she asked and Tyler wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. He felt like an awful brother. 

“We broke up in October Cas,” he said softly. His sister went quiet on the other end of the line, if he couldn’t hear the steady rhythm of her breath, he would have thought she had hung up on him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked finally, her voice thick with sympathy. Tyler changed his mind and reopened the freezer. He wanted, and deserved, his chunky monkey. 

“There was never a good time,” Tyler said, surprised to find the words catching in his throat. He swallowed them down and sat the ice cream on the counter to re-soften a bit before he ate it. He got a glass out of the cabinet and filled it from the sink while he spoke. “And then it got to the point, where I wasn’t even sure if there was a point anymore.” 

“Tyler…” said Cassidy trailing off, Tyler almost hung up right there, he wasn’t sure if he could handle her tone of voice. He squeeze his eyes shut and wished he could blame it all on the hormones. 

“What happened?” she asked trying to keep her voice kind. He was willing to bet that Candace was listening in. 

“He accused me of cheating on him,” Tyler said, deciding that the short version would be best. “I didn’t, but you know, Jamie apparently agrees with the rest of the world that I’m a whore.” 

“Tyler-” Cassidy started but Tyler cut her off. 

“You can’t tell mom though, okay? She already told me what she thought about me, as she put it, spreading my legs for my captain, and the fact that I’m pregnant isn’t really helping my case, but you can’t tell her.” He finished in a rush, suddenly regretting the words when he was met with silence on the other end of the line. 

“Pregnant?” Said Cassidy, slowly and Tyler felt tears prickle in the corner of his eyes. 

“Yeah, but you can’t tell mom,” he insisted. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the disaster that would follow if his mother found out. 

“How far along are you?” Cassidy asked, the underlying how long have you been hiding it going unspoken. 

“I’m twenty weeks,” Tyler said resting a hand on his stomach. “And yes, it’s Jamie’s and no, he doesn’t know.” 

Tyler paused, “also I’m not fat, I’m pregnant, so no I have not let myself go.” 

He took the lid off his ice cream and dug a spoon into the contents. “Actually, according to my doctor, I could stand to gain a little more weight. I’m having a hard time keeping it on with training, and then having bronchitis didn’t help.” Tyler licked stray chocolate off his lips. 

“Should you still be playing?” Cassidy asked, narrowing in on what she believed had gone unsaid. Tyler didn’t tell her he had spent most of his birthday in the hospital, and didn’t plan to. He took another bite of ice cream to delay his answer. 

“My doctor said it would probably be fine,” Tyler said and Cassidy huffed. There was a rustling sound and suddenly Candace had the phone. 

“What do you mean you had bronchitis?” she asked and Tyler flushed even though she couldn’t see him. 

“I’m fine now, and Brownie came to surprise me for my birthday, so it wasn’t like I was alone at the hospital.” Shit. He hadn’t meant to tell her that part. 

“You were in the hospital? What the fuck Tyler!” Candace swore. “This is the kind of thing you tell people! Actually these are all things that you tell people! You broke up with your boyfriend, you tell your sisters, you’re pregnant, you tell your sisters, you’re so sick you end up in the fucking hospital, you tell your sisters!” 

Tyler put the lid back on the ice cream. He definitely wasn’t hungry anymore. He debated just hanging up the phone, but knew that it would only cause more problems. 

“I’m sorry,” he said instead, his voice sounding rough and unsteady. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Tyler,” Candace said, her voice suddenly going soft, “I’m sorry I yelled, I’m just I worry about you, you’re my big brother, I’m not mom, we’re not like mom, and I’m sorry if you felt like you couldn’t talk to us.” 

Tyler exhaled slowly, trying to find the words. He knew that, he knew that his mother was her own brand of awful and that his sisters had never taken after her. However, the fears and insecurities were still there to an extent. Even if the not talking to them hadn’t even been a conscious decision. 

“If it helps,” he said, “I haven’t really told anyone? Brownie only knows because he showed up at my house and I wasn’t there, and then like, if you see me in person I definitely look pregnant, and Marchy figured it out himself when we were in Boston, and Sharpy found me when I was drunk off my ass and I told him.”

Tyler glanced up at the clock on the stove; he had forty-five minutes until practice. He still needed to change and walk the dogs, talking to his sisters was sending his emotions into a tailspin. 

Cassidy was quiet for a long minute. “We’re family though,” she said softly and Tyler felt overwhelmingly guilty. He couldn’t handle this right now.

“I know,” he said and swallowed hard. He wished he knew how to put how he was feeling into words. How at first he didn’t know, then he didn’t want to think it was real. He thought about how long the pregnancy test had sat on his counter, how many weeks he put off seeing a doctor even when he knew it was positive. He thought about thinking he was having a miscarriage and spending his birthday in the hospital coughing up a lung, so sick that he hadn’t even realized it had been his birthday until Brownie presented him with a chocolate cupcake the next day. 

He thought about going over to the Sharp’s for dinner after the All Star Weekend was over. How Abby had made homemade pizza, and Sharpy had brought out a birthday cake, Maddy presenting him with a glittering homemade birthday card. They had scheduled him for a massage and facial, supposedly to help him relax and cultivate his pregnancy glow. Maddy had also given him a fluffy stuffed cat, explaining that she had picked it out for him all by herself. Tyler had shamelessly cried. His mother had sent him a ten-dollar Starbucks gift card in a birthday card, which she hadn’t even signed. His sisters had sent him a framed picture of the three of them from when he took them to Hawaii that past summer. Jamie had taken the photo. 

“I have to go,” he said, thinking about how sometimes his family didn’t feel like his family. He loved his sisters, and abstractly he cared about his mom, but he knew he had never been her favorite, and it stung. They shipped him off to play hockey when he was fourteen, rather than deal with him at home. “I’ll see you in a few weeks when you’re on break.” He said and hung up before anyone could respond. 

He took a deep breath to steady himself and made his way upstairs. He pulled off his tee shirt, and dropped the pajama pants he was wearing to the floor. He caught his reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of his open closet door and wandered over, raking his eyes up and down over the image of his bare body. 

He was up to two twenty-five, the heaviest he had been ever, and it showed. Most of the weight was centered on his middle in a curve that started just below his rib cage, and slopping down to the top of his groin. His abs were completely gone, his hips were wider, his ass full, his breasts swollen more than usual, but not enough to be noticed by anyone other than Tyler’s own critical eye. 

The hard, sharp angles of his face had rounded out. All of him was soft, soft edges and soft curves. He wondered if this is what people meant about the pregnancy glow. He poked his stomach, there was no give; he didn’t feel like he was glowing. He thought about what his mother had said to his sisters, he really did look fat. Actually, he looked pregnant. But he doubted that would be the first assumption people made when seeing NHL star, Tyler Seguin, looking a bit chunkier. 

He turned away from the mirror and tugged on a pair of boxer briefs, he had been going without around the house, disliking the marks they left around his hips and belly but too stubborn and lazy to go up in size. 

He pulled on a clean pair of sweatpants and a clean long sleeve tee shirt, grabbing his new favorite Vans off the floor and tugging them on as well. He made his way back downstairs, pausing to turn back to grab a snapback. He called for Marshall and Cash as he went, meeting them by the front door. He clipped on their leashes and they headed for a quick walk around the block. Tyler silently hoped that he would be up for taking them on a longer walk after practice.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbetaed, I’ve been waiting out Hurricane Matthew and wanted to post it while I had the chance (real life is kind of on pause since we’re not supposed to go outside and even Waffle House is closed- I’m so thankful we still have power). The Roommate wasn’t able to edit it this time, but she did get to listen to me ramble on about it.
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic). In this chapter Tyler references past events in this fic, such as his fear that he was going to be sexually assaulted (though he was not). Additionally there is mention of Patrick Kane in this chapter even though he does not appear. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and sticking with this despite the delays in updates! Additionally, I want to apologize to those that are unhappy with the direction of this fic, or the previous chapter. I write what I want to read, but I understand that’s not for everyone (and I'm super sorry if you feel like you're wasting your time or that the story is dragging on). I hope people like this chapter better (probable typos, other mistakes and all!) 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter an this fic in general! <3
> 
> ALSO: I made a tumblr for writing though I suck and keep forgetting it exists and therefore not posting anything on it, but it does exist as allylikethecat if you ever want to say hi.

Chapter Twenty-Two: 

Sharpy snorted, watching in amusement as Tyler desperately tried to pour the crumbs at the bottom of his snack bag of goldfish into his mouth. 

“Yes, those last few broken pieces are so important,” Sharpy teased. Tyler ended up missing his mouth, the orange tidbits falling down the front of his practice jersey. Tyler made a low whining sound from the back of his throat and Sharpy laughed, patting him on the shoulder. 

“I’m sure you’ll live,” he comforted. 

“I don’t know about that,” Tyler said smiling despite the pout he was trying to fake. “It’s pretty touch and go right now.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sharpy countered, following Tyler back towards the ice for practice. 

“No, I’m hungry, all the goddamn time,” Tyler whined, gracefully jogging onto the ice despite his new center of gravity. He turned to face Sharpy, skating backwards around the perimeter of the rink waiting for practice to start. “And I want ice cream, and watermelon, and chicken nuggets, Sharpy I hate ice cream, and watermelon!” Sharpy rolled his eyes at Tyler’s antics, speeding up so that he could playfully tap the other’s ass with his stick. Tyler’s jaw dropped and he stared at Sharpy with mock outrage. 

“I can’t believe you,” he said, coming to a hard stop back at the mouth of the tunnel where they were convening, specifically spraying Sharpy with snow. Lindy smiled at Tyler’s antics as he stepped onto the ice, before dividing the team up for drills. 

Sharpy, Tyler and Jamie were directed into an attacking drill against Daddy and Jordie with Nemo in goal. Daddy was grinning at him, chirping him playfully as he stole the puck from Tyler’s stick, only for Tyler to steal it back a moment later. Jordie on the other hand was playing ruthlessly. He had gotten into the habit of not bothering to pull his hits against Tyler. Part of Tyler hated it; he wished he could make it through a practice without turning black and blue from the abuse of his own teammates. But at the same, Tyler was grateful; he knew that it was making him a better player, and helping to prepare him better for dodging opposing players and protecting his middle. He had boxed the anger of his teammates into the same part of his mind reserved for opposing rivals. 

His eyes stung from the sweat that poured down his forehead and Lindy blew his whistle telling them to take five and then go at it again. He ripped off his helmet, looping it around his wrist. Tyler skated over the bench and gulped down Gatorade, the synthetic watermelon flavoring tasting better than it had any right to. A dribble rolled down his chin and he tried to lick it up with his tongue. He accepted defeat and wiped it away with the back of his hand, his gloves sandwiched between his knees. 

Without thinking he leaned over and lifted up the hem of his jersey using it to wipe the sweat off of his forehead. He was thankful his skin was feeling less tender; he was able to ditch the tank top. He straightened up and run his fingers through his hair, dreading putting his helmet back on. The skin on the back of his neck prickled and Tyler looked around; getting the feeling that he was being watched. He made eye contact with Jordie and quickly dropped his gaze. Daddy might have been behaving more friendly, but Tyler knew that as Jamie’s older brother, Jordie Benn would never care for him again. 

Tyler offered up a weak smile, and put his helmet back on, and tugged on his gloves, skating over to join the rest of the offensive lines to practice a shoot out drill. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Jordie was continuing to watch him through out the rest of practice. 

He stood in line with Val and Sharpy, waiting for his turn, working a puck back and forth absent-mindedly, and chatting with the duo about children’s movies of all things. Apparently Sharpy had a lot of feelings about Finding Nemo and was appalled that Val hadn’t seen it yet, considering it was “right on target with his English skills.” Val proceeded to call Sharpy a variety of creative insults, specifically in English, while Sharpy tried and failed to keep a straight face. 

“I just, I really think watching Finding Nemo is critical,” Sharpy was rambling on, only for Val to make a face. 

“Wait, movie actually call Finding Nemo?” he asked shocked, “I think you making joke about Nemo,” he said guesting to their goalie.

Tyler had started to tune him out, getting in the zone to take his shot on Goalie Nemo, and trying to ignore the weird churning pressure in his stomach. It figured, thought Tyler, that something he had eaten wasn’t agreeing with him. He was hungry all the time, falling into a love affair with food that he had never experienced before. Usually food was just a way to get calories to play hockey, but now it was something he had found himself full heartedly embracing, even if it usually caused him indigestion after. He just really hoped it wasn’t the goldfish. He had eaten an entire bag of them on the way to practice and was going to be very upset if they couldn’t be in his life anymore. 

They finished up the shoot out drill, and Lindy ended practice, telling them to take it easy before tomorrow’s matinee game. Tyler wasn’t ready to go home yet; he still had a nervous energy brewing under his skin. He was tired, but these days he was always tired. He had caught Jordie staring at him again, and it was starting to make him uncomfortable. Paired with the weird pressure in his stomach, Tyler just wanted to skate laps until his limbs felt heavy. He knew that he only had a few more weeks on the ice, and he wanted to enjoy every second of it that he could.

He quickly spoke to Lindy, and got permission to spend some more time on the ice, working on stick handling and agility as long as he cleaned up after himself after. He grabbed Sharpy’s arm and told him not to wait up for him, but that he would join him and Val for a showing of Finding Nemo with Maddy and Sadie that night as long as there was pizza. 

“Fat ass,” Sharpy chirped lovingly, swatting at Tyler’s ass as he skated away. Tyler smiled and stuck out his tongue. Suddenly extremely pleased that he was alone on the ice. He skated out to center ice, dragging a crate of pucks with him. He scattered them around him along with his helmet and began working on guiding his puck through the make shift obstacle course as quickly as he could. He took a break after ten minutes to do a few laps around the ring, savoring the way his muscles burned. He came to a hard stop and rested a hand on his stomach well hidden behind his pads and the loose fabric of his jersey. 

Ever since his growth spurt when he was sixteen, Tyler had been proud of his body. He had always been on the smaller side for a hockey player, smaller even than Patrick Kane and Brad Marchand. He had lacked the speed and muscle mass that made them the valuable players that they were.

It felt like suddenly, out of nowhere he hit six foot one and the cut definition he had always strived for was sculpted. All the hard work he had put into his body was finally paying off. His body allowed him to play hockey, it allowed him to run with his dogs, and more recently carry a child. Sometime, specifically more recently, he felt like his body was betraying him. 

He hadn’t stayed on the ice as long as he intended, but the weird fluttering pressure was starting to become more pronounced. He wondered if it was gas. Luckily he had spent enough extra time that the locker room was empty when he made his way through. 

He stripped out of his gear slowly, enjoying the peace, and setting a leisurely pace. He tossed his jersey into the laundry bin the center of the room and peeled off his pads. He was thankful he was alone, he didn’t have to try and hid his bump. He stretched, hanging his pads in his stall, rolling his shoulders back. He placed his skates in the stall, hanging them next to his helmet. He shimmied out of his pants, and unhooked his socks, adding his pants to his stall and tossing the socks into the laundry followed by his leggings, leaving him standing in just his boxer briefs. He padded barefoot into the showers, the black fabric clinging obscenely with sweat to the curve of his ass, the waistband settled comfortably below his belly. He had given in and gone the next size up. 

He turned the water on high, enjoying the way the steam filled the stall, and the hot water poured down his back. There was no one around, so luckily he was going to be able to take his time, with no one to judge him or harass him for the relaxed pace he was setting. He lathered his loofah with body wash and started to scrub the sweat from practice off of his skin. He rinsed the loofah off and hung it back on it’s hook, stopping to run his fingers over the roundness of his middle, enjoying the way that the soap allowed his fingers to glide smoothly against the skin on skin contact with no resistance. 

Ever since he had “popped” according to Abby, he had found himself having a hard time keeping his hands off of his bump. Marveling at the way that it grew along with his child. He pressed down on the side, trying to massage out the pocket of discomfort, but instead of helping it only made the fluttering worse. 

“Holy shit,” Tyler breathed realization washing over him as he watched the rivets of water roll down the stretched skin. It wasn’t indigestion or gas. That was his kid moving. He nearly slipped in his hast to grab shampoo, now trying to wash as quickly as possible so that he could finish and text Sharpy and Abby, text Brownie, text Marchy, text his sisters. He needed to text everyone that knew he was pregnant and share his excitement with them. He was feeling his child move. 

“Holy shit, holy shit,” he chanted gleefully, not even caring that he managed to get shampoo in his eyes, blinking away the sting. “Holy shit.” 

He turned off the water, and went to grab his towel off the hook before realizing that he had left it on the bench across from the showers stalls. He sighed, not looking forward to stepping into the cold, especially without getting to dry off, but it wasn’t a far sprint. He patted his bump one more time; he could feel his baby moving, and pulled the curtain aside and stepped out into the open only to collide heavily with a solid body. He stumbled back, catching himself from falling, his arms instinctually falling to wrap around his waist, shielding his stomach. 

“I’m sorry-,” Tyler started to apologize, before looking up and realizing that he had just collided with Jordie Benn. He was now standing before his teammate, his ex-boyfriends older brother, the parental uncle of his unborn child, butt ass naked, looking very clearly pregnant. “Fuck,” Tyler swore, not sure if he should be trying to cover his bump or his dick at this point. He wondered if he could go back into the shower and hide. He wished he had his towel. 

He looked down at the tile floor, wishing that it would swallow him whole. He felt like he was rooted in place. He wanted to push past Jordie into the main part of the locker room, he wanted to tug on his jogger sweatpants and hoodie and run away. But his knees were locked. He couldn’t read the expression on Jordie’s face as his gaze flickered up and down Tyler’s body. He felt himself flushing, shame coloring his face and neck, the tips of his ears scarlet. Jordie raised his hand to run his fingers through his hair, exhaling loudly and Tyler found himself flinching, for some reason expecting Jordie to hit him. 

“Jesus Seguin,” said Jordie at last, breaking the silence that had settled into the locker room, the only other sound that of water hitting the floor as Tyler dripped. 

“I’m sorry,” Tyler blurted out, but he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. He shifted his weight back and forth, giving up on covering himself; he shivered, instead wrapping his arms around himself for warmth. 

Jordie wasn’t yelling, Jordie wasn’t saying anything. He turned and picked up Tyler’s towel of the bench and held it out for him. Tyler wondered if that was a peace offering as he dried off, before wrapping it around himself, trying to put his bump out of view, even if the damage had already been done. He wanted to cry, he felt foolish for parading around in a public space, even if he thought he was alone. He should have known better, he should have been more careful. Tyler wondered why Jordie was even still here.

He was still trapped in place, he couldn’t get his legs to move, he was trembling slightly as Jordie continued to stare at him. Tyler swallowed hard. “You can’t tell Jamie,” he said his voice cracking. 

Jordie blinked, “is, is it his?” 

Tyler felt tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. He wanted to stomp his foot and scream. He was supposed to be happy right now, he was feeling his child move for the first time. Yet all he felt right now was shame, and he didn’t like it. 

“Yes, it’s fucking Jamie’s, Jesus Christ Jordie, I know you fucking hate me, but I didn’t fucking cheat on him!” The words came out harsh and stronger than Tyler had expected them to. He was so tired, so tired of all of this. Anger flared up in his chest, and he felt himself almost growl. He suddenly found himself able to move again. He pushed past Jordie roughly shouldering him out of the way, heading into the central part of the locker room. 

He dropped his towel and tugged on underwear and his pants, the soft gray fabric felt wonderful on his goose bumped newly washed skin. He heard Jordie walk in behind him, just as he was pulling on a loose white V-neck, his black BU hoodie sitting on the bench next to him with his snapback as he bent over to put his socks on. He had been experiencing the wonders of foot and ankle swelling recently and his slip on vans had become his new go to. 

He looked up to see that Jordie had followed him. Tyler squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t let himself cry. 

“You can’t tell Jamie,” said Tyler, keeping his voice low and dangerous. He felt feral, a wave of protectiveness washing over him. He suddenly knew with certainty he would kill for his child. He had been skeptical; worried that he didn’t have the parental instinct, the urge to protect. He was pretty sure that was the current emotion seeping from his pours, he wondered if maybe he wouldn’t be as awful of a parent as he thought. 

“Like hell I can’t,” said Jordie, reacting to Tyler’s tone. Tyler stood up, Jordie was taller than him, and currently more built but Tyler was tired of being physically intimated by the Benn brothers.

“I said, you can’t tell him,” Tyler growled, barring his teeth. 

“You said it’s his kid, he has the right to know, unless you were lying,” Jordie snarled. 

“I didn’t cheat on him,” Tyler said, “he may of helped make it, but this kid is mine,” he emphasized the word mine. 

“You know, he didn’t even give me a chance to explain? Just caught me trying to comfort my married friend who was upset that he and his husband were having trouble conceiving and started screaming that I was a whore, told me I was just another worthless slut, and that Boston was right for trading me, that no one wanted me. They only kept me around because I was an easy fuck.” 

Tyler swallowed hard before continuing, “I tried to tell him I was pregnant too, but excuse me for being fucking scared of him, he got the entire team to hate me, I didn’t even get the chance to explain to anyone that he was wrong, that I hadn’t cheated on him, they just all took his side, no one would even talk to me so I could explain, you all just threw me into the fucking boards at practice and shit talked me to the press,” Tyler was breathing heavily now, his volume rising. 

Jordie was white as a sheet, staring at Tyler with wide eyes but he wasn’t done. He found that now he had started he couldn’t stop yelling. He let all the frustration that had been bubbling under his skin out. In some ways he had accepted what was happening to him. But seeing Jordie now, having him try and tell him what to do, when he hadn’t done anything wrong was too much. It set him off, the words pouring from his mouth like water from a broken fire hydrant. 

“I was, I am fucking scared of him, yeah I was drunk and I shouldn’t have been but I was scared. I was twenty-three years old and I had just found out I was pregnant and the man I loved, the father of my fucking child was making my life a living hell,” a few tears escaped, rolling down Tyler’s cheek, settling into his facial hair as he tried to wipe them away, the salt making the short hairs itch. 

“And you know what,” Tyler continued, picking up his hoodie and putting on his snapback. He needed to leave before he said anything else. “I’m right to be scared of him,” he pushed past Jordie, heading towards the exit.

He turned to look over his shoulder. His hands were shaking. He hadn’t told anyone this. He hadn’t told anyone that he had remembered. He had tried to block it out of his mind, had tired to pretend it wasn’t real, tried to pretend that it wasn’t something he had actually remembered, something that had happened. When he remembered, he had woken up cry, and shaking, desperately trying to erase the memory from his mind. He tried to convince himself that it had all been a dream, a nightmare, but deep down he knew that that wasn’t the case. It’s why he had been caught eating chicken nuggets at two am; he had gone for a drive looking for an escape. 

“When I went to go talk to him, yeah I was really fucking drunk, but Jamie shoved me into broken glass and part of me though he was going to try and do something to me, he didn’t, but he had me on my knees, and I’m positive he was thinking about it. So I would really appreciate it if you could refrain from telling him that he was fucking right, and some loser did manage to knock me up, just turns out it was him.” 

 

Tyler was full on shaking, violent termers vibrating through his body when he finally made it to his car. He was thankful he had driven his Mercedes that morning, the larger SUV feeling almost like a safety blanket as he sat in the driver’s seat. He wiggled around, pulling on his sweatshirt, and turning the car on so that he could crank up the heat, he felt like he couldn’t get warm. He didn’t think he was going over to Sharpy’s anymore.

He slammed his hands against the steering wheel and swore, “FUCK,” a sob ripping it’s way from his throat, “fuck.” 

 

Tyler blinked owlishly, his sluggish brain coming back online as he heaved himself off of the couch where he had fallen asleep. Someone was ringing his doorbell insistently. Tyler rubbed his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to wipe away the dried tear tracks, evidence that he had been crying. He hoped it was the pizza he had ordered before he passed out. 

He grabbed cash for the tip from where he had left it earlier and opened the door without checking the peephole. He shooed Marshall and Cash back from where they were excitedly trying to greet their supposed guest. 

Tyler blinked stupidly, trying to figure out if what he was seeing was really real. Jordie Benn was standing on his front porch, a box of Krispy Kreme donuts in his hands. Tyler shook his head. This was real he could smell the donuts. 

“What the fuck?” he said dumbly, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could finish processing, his mind still hazy from crying himself to sleep. Jordie flushed and held the donuts out to Tyler as if they were a peace offering. 

“Can we talk?” he asked softly and Tyler sighed, opening the door wider and stepping aside. Marshall and Cash had lost interest when they had seen it was Jordie. Even if he hadn’t been around in months, at one time he had been a frequent guest and not worth the excitement that someone such as the pizza delivery driver would warrant. Tyler wished Jordie was the pizza delivery driver. 

He led Jordie into the kitchen and gestured for him to take a seat at the table. He wondered over to the fridge and pulled out a beer.

“Want one?” he asked, and Jordie shifted looking as uncomfortable as Tyler felt. 

“I, I mean, shouldn’t you not be drinking that?” Jordie asked dumbly and Tyler rolled his eyes.

“How bad of a parent do you think I am? The fuck?” Tyler said, grabbing his own cherry lime sparkling water, and slamming the door of the refrigerator shut. Jordie flinched. 

“Brownie came down for my birthday and these are his left overs.” Tyler explained, grabbed a bottle opener and popped the cap off of the bottle of Molson before setting it down in front of Jordie. 

Tyler sat down so that he was across from Jordie, he couldn’t meet his eyes. He fiddled with the wrapper of his water, and debating whether or not if would be giving in to eat one of the donuts. Tyler wanted to complain that Jordie was cheating, bringing warm donuts into the home of a pregnant person. Pride won out and Tyler continued to resist the donuts. 

“Why are you here Jordie,” he asked at last, looking up to watch Jordie take a slow drag of his beer. 

He sat the bottle down on the table and exhaled slowly, his words uncertain when he finally spoke. “I wanted to apologize,” he said at last. 

Tyler tore the label off his water; Jordie winced as the sound of ripped paper filled the silent kitchen. 

Jordie swallowed hard. “I was wrong,” he said, the words rough. Tyler snorted and looked back down at the table, he started tearing the label into thin strips. 

“I was wrong, I should have listened to you, I should have gotten your side of the story, you’re my friend and how I’ve been treating you was wrong,” Jordie said and Tyler looked up from the small pile of shredded paper.

“It’s fine,” he said his voice devoid of emotion. He just wanted Jordie to leave. He wanted his pizza to come, he wanted to eat it and then he wanted to take one of the sleeping pills left over from his hospitalization and fall into a dreamless drugged sleep until they had to fly out to St. Louis tomorrow afternoon. 

“Tyler…” Jordie said trailing off and Tyler forced himself to smile, it wasn’t cruel but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“It’s fine,” he said again, “Jamie’s your brother, of course you’re going to side with him,” Tyler’s smile turned rueful. “Besides, I’m just a slut anyway.” 

Jordie frowned, “Tyler-” he started but Tyler cut him off. 

“No, I mean, like I know that’s what you all think, I didn’t fuck Kane, I haven’t fucked anyone but Jamie since I was traded to Dallas,” Jordie winced but Tyler continued anyway, “But I’ve fucked so many people, more than I can count, half of them I probably don’t even really remember, and no one even seemed surprised to think I cheated on Jamie, no one would listen to me, and no one would even talk to me, it was just like you all thought it was about time, no surprise that Tyler Seguin fucked another dude, which means that you guys have all been thinking about it all along.” 

Jordie reached across the table and grabbed Tyler’s hands, making him to drop the paper scraps. He looked up, and Jordie forced him to meet his eyes. 

“I was wrong,” Jordie said his voice heavy, “We were all wrong.” 

Tyler swallowed and pulled away from Jordie’s grip, letting his hands fall over his bump, he discreetly rubbed his fingers in a circle motion, focusing on the grounding comfort it brought him.

“I can’t even put into words how sorry I am,” Jordie said, his voice cracking. Suddenly Tyler wanted to believe him. 

“You still can’t tell Jamie,” he said, “I just, he can’t know.”

“How far along are you?” Jordie asked and Tyler felt himself perk up, though he pushed it back down. He wanted to believe Jordie, but he wasn’t sure how much he trusted him, even if talking about his child was one of his new favorite things. 

“About twenty two weeks,” he said, “I have a C-section scheduled for the beginning of July, I’m good to keep playing for a few more weeks, then I’m going to have to talk to the front office about going on IR.” 

“Let me know if there’s anything you need, or anything I can do to help,” said Jordie at last. “And, if, can I, can I be in their life? I understand if you don’t want me to be, but if, if it’s okay, I would really like to be? Jamie doesn’t have to know, just, yeah, I mean, their my niece or nephew, if, if you’re okay with them being that, that is,” Jordie said in a rush tripping over his words. Tyler smiled, softly. 

“I’ll let you know,” he said. The doorbell rang and Tyler’s smile grew. His pizza was finally here.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thank you to The Roommate for editing this! She is the ultimate rockstar putting up with all my comma abuse. So if there are any glaring typos we can just blame her, (but not really any mistakes are mine, I probably ignored whatever she told me.)
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic). In this chapter Tyler references past events in this fic, such as his fear that he was going to be sexually assaulted (though he was not). 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and sticking with this fic despite the erratic updates. Every time I think life calms down enough for me to get back to a schedule, things get crazy again. However, this fic WILL be finished, it just might take us a little bit to get there. 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter an this fic in general! <3
> 
> ALSO: I made a tumblr for writing though I suck and keep forgetting it exists and therefore not posting anything on it, but it does exist as allylikethecat if you ever want to say hi. The tumblr is a great place to scream at me about hockey players and also fan fiction and maybe even this fic :) 
> 
> Once again thank you so much for sticking with this fic!!!

Jordie didn’t see the hit. He just saw Tyler crumbled on the ice, his helmet having popped off and slid a few feet away from him after he collided with the boards and then the unforgiving cold. He watched Kulikov skate away smugly. Tyler wasn’t moving, Sharp was skating to his side, Justin running onto the ice, his sneakers sliding as the referees halted the play. Jordie’s heart jumped into his throat. Tyler was pregnant. 

His gloves hit the ice before he had even made the conscious decision to fight. He grabbed Kulikov roughly by the collar, yanking him back. He nailed Kulikov in the face, feeling the warm gush of blood over his now bruised knuckles. He felt a linesman try and pull him off, but he shook him off. Rage coursed through his blood, he couldn’t get the image of Tyler sprawled on the ice out of his mind. 

Kulikov dropped his gloves, and delivered a blow that Jordie was about to easily dodge as he held tightly to his jersey. The linesmen stepped back, letting them fight. 

In the end Jordie was thrown out of the game, and heading back towards the locker room. It was midway through the third period, so he didn’t even feel bad. He stalked down the tunnel, his footsteps heavy on the rubber mats. The locker room was empty when he got there and so was the trainers office. He felt sick. That meant that they took Tyler straight to the hospital. 

He sat down heavily and let his head fall to his hands. Tyler shouldn’t have been playing. He was twenty-four weeks, and while Tyler had insisted that his doctor had said it was fine for him to continue playing, Jordie didn’t buy it. He squeezed his eyes shut, and then opened them again. The image of Tyler crumbled and semi conscious was burned into his retinas. 

He knew Tyler would never intentionally put his child in harms way and his anger and frustration were rooted in fear. But it was there all the same. Jordie ran his fingers through his hair. He leaned down to untie his skates. He wondered if Justin would give him any information if he called. Deep in the back of his mind he wondered if Tyler had miscarried. Jordie quickly pushed that thought away.

The sounds of heavy footsteps echoed throughout the locker room and Jordie looked up just in time to see his teammates filing in. Jamie’s expression was closed off. Jordie knew that the press would read it as concerned for his injured teammate, but he knew that Jamie was pissed. Jamie turned, fixing Jordie with a look of pure anger. Jordie swallowed hard, the anger was going to be directed at him.

They managed to win the game two to one despite Jordie’s game misconduct. Lindy kept the debrief short, making it clear that he was eager to get to the hospital and check on Tyler. His lips were pressed into a hardline. Jordie wondered how much he knew; he wondered how bad it was. If Tyler managed to recover he wondered what kind of trouble he was going to be in for hiding the pregnancy.  
Jordie was lucky that they didn’t want him talking to the press. He was able to shower quickly and change back into his suit. It took Jamie a little bit longer, having been stalled to supply a few captainly sound bites. 

Jordie gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white as Jamie slid into the car next to him. 

“What the fuck was that?” Jamie asked the second the door slammed shut. For one of the first times ever, Jordie wished he didn’t live with his younger brother. 

“What do you mean?” Jordie asked, playing dumb. He knew why Jamie was mad, even if it was irrational. 

“Why did you fucking fight Kulikov, that could have cost us the game! You’re probably going to get suspended!” Jamie spat. Jordie took a deep break and focused once again on the steering wheel. They hadn’t even made it out of the parking lot yet. 

“Because he sent one of our teammates to the hospital on an illegal hit,” Jordie said, working hard to keep his tone level and keep the “one of our teammates that is pregnant with your child,” to himself. 

Jamie huffed. “It was still unnecessary,” He said, but his voice was more level. 

“Sorry,” Jordie said, but he wasn’t at all. Jamie turned away from him to look moodily out the window. 

When they pulled into the driveway, Jordie sat in the car, letting the engine idle. Jamie raised an eyebrow. 

“You coming?” he asked but Jordie shook his head. 

“I’m going for a drive, excess adrenaline,” Jordie said and Jamie nodded. 

“Want company?” he asked but Jordie shook his head, “naw,” he said. Jamie nodded and turned towards the house. He paused and turned back. 

“What has been up with you anyway?” Jamie asked, “You’ve been weird the past few weeks.” He didn’t sound malicious, but Jamie’s entire disposition could change at the drop of a hat. 

“Nothing,” said Jordie, but he realized that was the wrong thing to say even before the words fully left his lips. Jamie’s eyes went hard. Jordie was so tired. He was scared for Tyler, and getting frustrated with his brother’s bullshit. 

“It has to be something,” Jamie said, “you’ve been acting weird, always looking at Seguin.”  
Jordie swallowed hard. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He was still sitting in the car, he could back out of the driveway and put off this conversation. But that would just cause the conflict they had to blow up even further later. 

“You want to fuck him don’t you,” said Jamie, “he’s getting chunky and you like that, he has curves now.” 

Jordie’s blood boiled. He hated to hear his brother talk about Tyler like that. He had tolerated it before, even going as far as to board Tyler during practice in retribution but in the back of his mind he had always known it was wrong. But Tyler had broken his little brother’s heart; he thought he was justified. Jordie knew now that Jamie had broken his own. 

“I don’t want to fuck your ex,” said Jordie slowly, his words heavy with frustration. He rolled up the window and turned off the car. As much as he wanted to drive away he knew it would just cause more issues. 

“I mean,” said Jamie, “I wouldn’t be surprised, he’s super easy.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Jordie said, “please.” 

“What is your problem?” Jamie snarked itching for a fight.

“My problem, is that Tyler loved you, and because of a misunderstanding, you threw him to the curb and made his life fucking hell. Now he’s in the fucking hospital, possibly with a concussion, or worse.” Jordie spat, pushing past Jamie into the house. He wanted to call Sharp and see if he had any news but he didn’t want Jamie to hear. 

“He cheated on me,” Jamie said softly, the vulnerability in his words catching Jordie off guard. 

“Did you ever talk to him about it?” Jordie asked and Jamie shook his head. His eyes filling with tears, Jordie’s own eyes widening. Ever since Jamie and Tyler broke up Jamie, had responded with anger. It appeared that after months he was finally responding with sadness and maybe even guilt. 

Jamie wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his suit and sat down on one of the front steps. Jordie thought of coming home and seeing Tyler wasted sitting on the same steps. That was the night he tried to tell Jamie he was pregnant.

“No,” Jamie explained, “I just saw them together and I didn’t want to hear him say it.” 

 

***

 

“Thank you again,” said Tyler, curling in on himself in the passenger seat of Sharpy’s car. Sharpy just huffed. 

“As I said the first six times Tyler it’s no problem, we’re happy to have you.” Sharpy responded turning down his street. 

“It just really means a lot,” Tyler insisted, “and I’m so sorry that I’ve been dumping so much of my bullshit on you.”

“Tyler if you say sorry one more time I’m kicking you out of the car.” Sharpy teased, “and I don’t care that you’re Canadian, and it’s what your people do. I’m Canadian too remember.” 

“Yeah but you’re a bad Canadian,” Tyler said cheekily.

Sharpy rolled his eyes. “Which one of us won an Olympic Gold Medal with Team Canada?” 

“For real though, thank you,” Tyler said one more time. 

“Don’t thank me yet, we’re still going to be waking you up ever two hours,” Sharpy said and Tyler sighed. 

“I don’t have a concussion though,” he argued but Sharpy just shrugged, putting his car into park. 

“Doctors still said we’re following protocol for the next twenty four hours just in case,” Sharpy reminded him, “You really scared us.” 

Tyler looked down at his hands. Kulikov hit him illegally, he had been caught unaware and had the wind knocked out of him. He had fallen to the ice in an undignified heap, the impact knocking off his helmet. It had taken him longer than it should have to get up. He was forced to use both Sharpy and Justin for support before limping his way down towards the tunnel.

He was terrified, his mind racing as he feared for his child. Justin steered him directly to where a pair of paramedics were waiting. He wasn’t given a choice; he had been taken directly to the emergency room for evaluation. 

“Sorry kid,” said Justin, from his spot beside Tyler in the ambulance, taking in the white knuckled grip he had on the stretcher linens. 

Tyler found himself unable to talk, he hadn’t since the hit. Justin had gone through all of the routine questions. What is your name, your age, where are you, what are your parents names, what year is it? But Tyler didn’t answer. Justin’s expression had grown grim, expecting the worst. It wasn’t until Tyler was in the back of the ambulance, speeding away from the arena that he realized he was having a panic attack. 

“My head is fine,” Tyler, argued, resting a hand lightly on the curve of his stomach under the hoodie Sharpy had been kind enough to bring him. He had gotten lucky in more ways than one. 

“Still,” Sharpy said, leading Tyler towards the guest room where he had woken up in the bathroom following his bender a few months before

“The girls are going to be so excited you’re here,” said Sharpy grinning, “They love Uncle Tyler.” 

Tyler smiled, and sat down on the side of the bed. It was late. Abby and the girls already in bed. Sharpy would have been too if he hadn’t met Tyler at the hospital. 

Tyler found his voice as they wheeled him in for an MRI, wanting to rule out a skull fracture or a brain bleed. The words “I’m pregnant,” chocked from his throat caused Justin to freeze as he walked beside his center. 

He had gotten lucky, severe bruising to his shoulders, back, side and ribs, as well as a pretty intense headache. If he hadn’t been pregnant he would have just shaken off the hit after a quick evaluation and continued the game. The doctors said he was lucky to have escaped internal bleeding. Justin admitted he was worried Tyler had ruptured his spleen. 

Leslie was called in and after she proclaimed that his baby was fine. Tyler felt as if the cinder blocks on his chest had finally been lifted. He was released into the care of Sharpy, who was given instructions to keep an eye on him for the next few days and to wake him up every two hours for the remainder of the night. Overall, he had gotten incredibly lucky. 

Justin had stopped him in the parking lot after they had already gotten into Sharpy’s car. Tyler rolled down his window and Sharpy pretended to be involved in his phone, politely trying to give him the illusion of privacy. Justin’s expression was grim. 

“Have you told anyone?” he asked and Tyler shook his head, and looked down.

“Just Sharpy and Abby, Brownie, and my sisters,” he said leaving out that two of the Bruins also knew, and Jordie. He wasn’t sure how Justin would react to Jordie Benn knowing the secret. 

“You involved with the father?” Justin asked and Tyler shook his head again. Tears welled in his eyes, he was tired, his head hurt and he wanted to go home. 

“I was, but not anymore.” He said softly. Justin nodded. 

“It’s Jamie’s isn’t it?” he asked and Tyler nodded, a few tears escaping. 

“I’ll tell the front office that you’re out with a lower body injury indefinitely,” Justin said and Tyler looked up sharply. That wasn’t what he was expecting. “You’re not going to be playing any more this season.” 

Tyler nodded again. He figured as such. His had only been planning on playing for another week. 

Justin nodded sharply. “Good talk, let me know if you need anything tonight and keep me updated.” He turned away heading back towards the car that was waiting for him. He then paused, turning back again to Tyler. 

“We’ll set up a meeting for later this week to talk about the situation, but for now let’s keep this whole thing to ourselves,” he said and Tyler swallowed hard but nodded. He was lucky that it appeared that Justin was going to be in his court. 

“See you in two hours,” Sharpy said and Tyler nodded, crawling under the covers.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! This chapter is unbetaed because The Roommate edited the first version of it, I got annoyed and started over because I decided I didn’t like it, and now I am too impatient to have this new version betaed. THEREFORE I sincerely apologize for all the mistakes that I missed and are present (if there are any super awful ones please let me know so I can fix it!) 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic). In this chapter Tyler references past events in this fic, such as his fear that he was going to be sexually assaulted (though he was not). Additionally there is mention of Patrick Kane in this chapter even though he does not appear. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and sticking with this fic despite the delays in updates! Hopefully I will have the next few chapters up sooner! (We are back to an outline woo!) 
> 
> Once again thank you so much!!! And if yo want to say hey on tumblr (harass me about updates, talk hockey, talk fic in general or just talk) you can find me as allylikethecat , I suck at remembering I actually have a tumblr but I swear I’ll respond / post thing eventually!!! 
> 
> Hope everyone is having a good week! <3

Tyler wiped his sweaty palms against the rough fabric of his black jeans. He had wanted to dress up for the meeting Justin had scheduled with the front office. But had discovered that none of his dress pants fit anymore. The jeans he had managed to slide up his thighs were biting uncomfortably into the underside of his belly, he wondered if he could discretely pop the button where it was hidden under the heavy fabric of his charcoal gray knit sweater.

“They’re ready for you,” said Shelby, Jim Nill’s secretary. 

Tyler nodded and stood up. His heart jumping into his throat. Despite Abby and Sharpy’s insistence, Tyler was still convinced he was going to be kicked off the team. He thought of the way his agent, Ian, had yelled at him two days before when he called and explained that he was going to be needed at this meeting, and why. 

He felt like a man walking to his execution as he entered the doorway. His heart was racing and he wondered if it was too late to turn back and run far away. Maybe he and his baby could move into the Canadian wilderness, live in a cabin and no one would find them. Tyler shook his head; he wasn’t qualified to home school his child. Plus they had already seen him anyway. 

Ian looked grim when Tyler walked into the conference room. Justin smiled encouragingly, and Lindy and Nill wore matching looks of confusion. Judy from PR was frantically typing away on her cellphone. Tyler’s stomach rolled. He wondered if he was going to throw up all over the conference table. 

He took the empty seat next to Ian, careful to keep his gaze downcast. He let his fingers fall to his bump as he shifted uncomfortably. His skin felt dry and his belly itched. The urge to run still present, buzzing under his skin. 

“So,” said Nill gruffly, his heavy gaze falling to Tyler. “Justin called this meeting on your behalf, said there were some things we needed to discuss?” 

Nill looked over to Ian. “I will say I was surprised that your agent was to be included as well. I hope your injury is not so severe as to warrant retirement.” 

“Ah, it’s complicated,” said Tyler. 

He regretted wearing the sweater. It hid the extra weight of his middle, but the knit fabric was saturated with the ice cold sweat of anxiety. He started to shiver, pulling the sleeves down over his hands. He wished he had taken Sharpy’s offer to accompany him to the meeting, but he also knew that it would have sent the wrong message to the front office. 

All eyes were on Tyler, waiting for him to continue. Justin tried to send him another smile of encouragement. Tyler tried to smile back but it turned into a grimace. He bit his lip so hard he was surprised it didn’t bleed.

He opened his mouth, meaning to thank them for taking time out of their busy schedule to meet with him.

“I’m pregnant.” He blurted out instead. Ian looked annoyed. Justin’s smile grew. Lindy and Nill blinked. Tyler wondered if Judy had heard him. 

“Excuse me?” said Lindy, disbelieve coloring his tone. 

“I’m pregnant,” said Tyler again, this time his voice wavered the confidence that painted his words previously gone. He fiddled with the hem of his sweater, and tears prickled in the corners of his eyes. He reached up to rub at them behind his glasses. Shame he hadn’t felt in ages burning in his chest. 

Lindy continued to stare, blinking in confusion and shock. He thought about how Tyler had played, pregnancy and his performance weren’t adding up in the way it should have. But at the same time, it seemed to be the missing puzzle piece, explaining so many of his behaviors. 

“How long?” asked Nill, Tyler could all but see the gears turning in his mind. 

“I’m twenty seven weeks,” Tyler said softly, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. He felt ashamed and like a child being scolded. 

“How long have you know?” Nill asked. 

“A while,” Tyler mumbled. Guilt flared in his chest, merging with the shame. He wondered what they were thinking. He wondered if they thought he was a slut, he wondered if they thought he had put his child at risk keeping it a secret. He wondered if they were surprised. 

“Is the father going to be a problem?” Judy asked, speaking for the first time. She still hadn’t looked up from her phone. 

“He doesn’t know and I don’t plan on telling him,” Tyler said, trying to keep his voice strong. Leave it to media relations to jump on that narrative right off the bat. “We were in a relationship but it ended before I found out about the pregnancy.” 

“So Jamie Benn is the father,” stated Judy, filling in the blanks. Tyler flushed. 

“Jesus Seguin,” said Nill, “you really don’t do anything half way do you?” 

“I’m sorry,” Tyler squeaked, he didn’t know what else to say as he braced himself to be kicked off the team. 

Ian had gone through his contract and was insistent that they couldn’t kick him out of the league. The worst that could happen would be that he was traded. Tyler doubled that anyone would want him. He was a six and a half month pregnant problem child. He rubbed at his bump under the table. 

“How do we want to spin this?” asked Judy, looking up for the first time. “We have options, some of them more preferable than others.” 

“Well, based on the contract that Tyler has signed the non discrimination laws that the National Hockey League is legally bound to abide by, Tyler is to remain with the Stars indefinitely. Moving him, or trading him would be not only a breach of contract but grounds for a discrimination lawsuit. Based on previous procedure by the league, it is recommended that he is placed on IR until next season, where he will rejoin the Stars as part of the starting roaster in Dallas.” Ian said smoothly. Tyler bit his lip so hard he was surprised that it didn’t bleed. 

“We have no intention of moving or trading Tyler anywhere, as far as I am concerned his place is with the Stars, and the line up will greatly miss him in the coming months.” Said Nill smoothly. Tyler looked up sharply, surprised by his GMs words. He was sure that they would find some kind of loophole and that he would be gone. He couldn’t even argue and say that he didn’t deserve it if he was traded. He had lied to the team, and their captain had knocked him up. 

“Will you be issuing a statement regarding your condition or are we going to be sticking with the lower body injury narrative?” asked Judy, she glanced over at Justin who had stayed silent thus far. He was present mainly for emotional support. 

“I want to keep my private life private,” said Tyler firmly, confidence settling into his bones. He felt ten pounds lighter now that he knew he wasn’t going to be forced off the team. 

“What about the team?” asked Lindy, “I know things have been rough with the Benn brothers, but spirits have been low the past few weeks since your alleged injury.” 

“Sharpy and Jordie already know,” Tyler admitted. 

Lindy nodded, Sharp was no surprise, he knew that the duo had gotten close as road roommates. Meanwhile Jordie Benn was a shock. 

“Jordie Benn?” asked Lindy and Tyler nodded sheepishly. “There was an incident in the locker room and he found out, I was careless in a way I shouldn’t have been.” Tyler explained trying to sound professional and diplomatic instead of like the twenty four year old frat boy that was his public persona. 

Nill hummed, but made no comment for which Tyler was thankful. He shifted uncomfortably, as his child shifted within him. It was a weird sensation, one that Tyler was confident that he would never get used to, he wasn’t sure it was something that he ever wanted to get used to. He pressed his palm against the curve, willing them to settle. He looked up and realized that everyone had continued speaking and he had missed it. He flushed, and looked back down at the table. 

Relief burned in his chest. He wasn’t going to be traded, and he wasn’t going to get kicked out of the NHL. The front office might not agree, or support his condition, but at the end of the day they were on his side. His heart swelled, and tears filled his eyes once again. He blinked them away rapidly. It felt like nothing had gone smoothly since he and Jamie had ended. He had hit road bump after road bump. 

Tyler smiled as the meeting ended and he was dismissed. Maybe things were finally starting to look up. 

He had just made It into the hallway when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Tyler turned, and Nill offered him a small smile, and pressed a folded piece of paper into his hand. 

“Number of a good Nanny Agency,” he said gruffly, and was off. 

Tyler’s smile grew. Things were going to be okay.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, this chapter is unbetaed because finals week is starting and I’m not going to make anyone edit something while they are dealing with that. I apologize for any and all mistakes that I missed and that are present. (If I missed anything super awful please let me know so I can fit it!) 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic). In this chapter Tyler references past events in this fic, such as his fear that he was going to be sexually assaulted (though he was not). Additionally there is mention of Patrick in this fic even though he does not appear. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this fic and sticking with it for so long! Hopefully I’ll get the new few chapters up in the new few weeks! 
> 
> (Let me know what you think of this chapter!!!)
> 
> ALSO once again if anyone wants to say hey on tumblr (harass me about updates, talk hockey, talk fic, just talk, anything really) hit me up! You can find me as allylikethecat , I’m not the best at remembering I have a tumblr but I’m doing my best. 
> 
> Hope everyone is having a great week! <3

"Is that a little waddle I'm seeing there Seguin?" Teased Abby, and Tyler flushed; he ran his fingers through his hair and forced a smile. 

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, pausing to take a deep breath once they had reached the owner’s box. He hated how easily he got winded these days. Leslie had said it was normal, but it was frustrating when he had spent his entire life as a competitive athlete. It was hard watching games from the owner’s box, the play off push starting as the season wound down. Brownie and Marchy had been texting him, trying to help keep his spirits up, but they were wrapped up in their own seasons. Guilt settled into Tyler’s chest as he worried that his own negativity was bringing them down.

It was made even worse by the fact that Jamie would be watching this game from the box as well. He was having issues with his hips again and Justin had ordered him to take a game off, not wanting him to get hurt before the play offs started. Tyler was lucky Abby had gotten a sitter and was accompanying him as moral support. Though he felt guilty that she had to. 

It was one of the last games he had agreed to attend, before hiding his pregnancy became too difficult. When Tyler thanked her for coming she had explained that she guessed she would also go to support her husband, who pouted when Abby had teased that she was going for Tyler, not Sharpy. Abby had kissed him lightly on the cheek and reminded him that she had been watching his games since college, and moved across the country with him twice. Sharpy had gotten a far away look in his eyes and wondered aloud how he had gotten lucky enough to end up married to someone like Abby. 

Something stirred inside Tyler’s chest as he watched them, and he hoped that he would be able to find someone who loved him like Sharpy loved Abby and vise versa. He had thought that was what he had with Jamie, but as time went on it became very clear that, that had not been the case. 

Abby was happily dressed in one of Sharpy’s jersey’s and dark skinny jeans with a pair of flat over the knee boots. She had smiled when Tyler commented on her jersey, and expressed that the novelty of wearing her husband’s jersey had yet to wear off. She had leaned forward, as if admitting a secret and shared that she had been relieved when Sharpy had been traded from the Flyers to Chicago, orange wasn’t her color. 

Tyler wished he were wearing his own jersey. Though even if he had been cleared to play, he doubted any of his gear would fit. Though carefully mostly camouflaged by a suit jacket and vest, Tyler’s bump was sitting lower, his hips widening, causing him to walk with a slight waddle. His baby was pressing on his bladder, the constant need to pee returning. His back ached, and he was overall in a grumpy mood. 

His sex drive had returned for the first time since before he found out he was pregnant. Except he felt fat and uncomfortable in his skin, meaning that finding a partner or even taking care of it himself was off the table. Thus leaving him frustrated and even more moody. The one time he had tried to jerk off had led to him nearly having a panic attack in the shower. He found his new body unnerving, and out of control, after spending his entire life working to be the best that he could be. 

He had found out the day before that his sisters were no longer coming for their spring break. Their mother had surprised them with tickets to see Drake. They promised they would come visit when the baby was born, but Tyler was still disappointed. He still hadn’t told his mother he was pregnant. He knew that when she found out it would be an absolute shit show, and he was dreading every second of it. He wasn’t sure he would ever tell her. Maybe he could just appear with a child one day, and she’ll be so distracted by it’s cuteness that she won’t ask questions. He knew it was a lost cause though. His mother was a cold-hearted woman and he doubted he would be able to even distract with something as cute as he assumed his baby would be. 

He had spent the morning interviewing nanny candidates, sent over from the agency Nill had recommended. He met one that he really liked, an older woman named Kate that gave Tyler a grandmother like vibe. She was a retired French teacher, her own kids grown, and children of the family she had previously worked with starting boarding school Even Marshal and Cash seemed to like her and he planned to send her an offer later that week, and put her in touch with his interior designer so she could ready the guest house to her liking. However despite his excitement, it also served to remind him just how under prepared and under qualified he was to have a kid. 

He may have had one of his guest bedrooms painted a calming sage green, bought a crib and decorated the room it in various shades of neutral greens, golds and browns, but at the end of the day he was anything but ready. The thought of being responsible for another life, especially one that meant as much to him as his unborn child did. 

Overall, he was horny, uncomfortable and in a bad mood. The last place he wanted to be was watching a hockey game when he could no longer play, but that is where he found himself. He stared longingly at the beer Abby was holding, almost wishing he could have a drink to take the edge off. He pressed his palm flat against his bump. He remembered all the liquor he had consumed before he knew, thankful that despite his transgressions his child was healthy. 

“You okay?” Abby asked, placing a hand on Tyler’s shoulder as they crossed the threshold of the box. He nodded, and took a sip from the water bottle he was holding as he followed Abby to the seats they had claimed as his own. He had dragged her into the private concourse so he could get some air before the game started. He was feeling overwhelmed by Jamie being so close. His baby was active inside of him as if they could sense that both of their parents were in the same space. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he said fiddling with the label of his water. “Just feeling overwhelmed, one of those days,” he explained. Though his mood had been festering all week, and he doubled it would fade anytime soon. Abby nodded, knowing first hand that the physical, emotional and hormonal changes that wrecked their way through Tyler’s body were taking their toll. 

“A few more weeks,” she said, giving him a small smile. Tyler smiled back, the panic of not being ready gripping his chest once more. 

“I know, I’m scared,” Tyler admitted, “I feel like I’m not ready.” 

“That’s how you know you’re going to be already,” said Abby smiling. “You never truly feel ready.” 

“I guess,” Tyler said, fiddling with the label of his water again. “I just, I’m already such a fuck up, like I this whole thing was such an accident and such a mistake, I don’t want my kid to feel like they were a mistake.” He confessed. 

“You’re going to be a good parent Ty,” Abby said reassuringly, reaching over to give him a hug. 

They watched their boys enter the ice, as they broke apart. Abby cheering when they announced Sharpy’s name. Tyler smiled, wishing that he was down there with him, but also knowing that despite his doubts, it would be worth it.

 

“Seguin, Benn,” said Nill, just before the period break. The Hurricane were slaughtering Dallas, the team missing both Tyler and Jamie greatly. “Head down to the locker room,” he said, “Lindy thinks it will be good for the team to see you guys, raise their spirits a bit, see if we can turn this game around.” 

Tyler sighed and stood up, following Jamie to the elevators to the locker room level. He ran his fingers through his hair, nervous energy settling into his bones. Jamie wouldn’t look at him, keeping his gaze fixed firmly onto the ground. Tyler coughed, anxiety settling into his chest, a feeling of dread swept through his body, he wasn’t sure why but he felt like something bad was going to happen. 

“You should be on the ice,” Jamie said, his voice low as the elevator doors opened, causing Tyler to look up sharply. 

“What?” he asked, confused not only by Jamie’s words, but that he was being spoken too at all. 

“You should be playing, I don’t know what your lower body injury is supposed to be, but I’m sure you’re fine, you’re needed on the ice and you’re letting the team down, even more than you have all seasons.” Jamie said again, louder this time, frustration clear in his voice. 

Tyler swallowed hard, trying not to let Jamie’s words get to him. He knew that Jamie was pissed that he himself wasn’t playing, and that their team was down four to zero in only the first period. Jamie was taking his frustrations out on Tyler, something that he had always done. 

“You could be playing too,” Tyler found himself saying, pettiness coloring his words. He swallowed hard, knowing that as soon as he spoke that he had said the wrong thing. That he should have kept his mouth shut. He was pushing Jamie further than he needed to. The elevator doors opened and Tyler quickly scurried through them. Jamie caught his arm just as he was about to descend the cement stairs that lead down to the actual locker room.

“My hips are fucked, at least I’m upfront about it,” Jamie snapped. “You’ve just been a dick, lying to the team and letting everyone down. I bet it’s because you’ve gained so much weight, you can’t keep up anymore, and you’re turning into a liability.”

“Tyler Seguin is a liability, alert the press,” Tyler said bitterly, “that’s nothing I haven’t heard before. You’re just pissed that you’re not playing and somehow, even though I’ve been out weeks you’re trying to make that my fault. You’re the one letting everyone down, not me, Captain.” Tyler sneered. 

Jamie looked taken aback, his grip on Tyler’s arm tightening. 

“It’s sad really,” Tyler said, finding now that he had started speaking he couldn’t stop. All of the anger, fear and frustration he had been feeling bubbling to the surface and overflowing. “You’re supposed to be a Captain, have everything all figured out, the perfect Canadian gentlemen, but you’re fucking obsessed with me. You’re gone out of your way to exclude me, and hurt me, and make my life miserable, because you’re so fucked up, that you can’t let me go, even though you’re the one who broke up with me.” Tyler spat. 

“You cheated on me you fucking slut!” Jamie snarled, jerking Tyler closer towards him, causing his to stumble forward, his center of gravity and balance off. 

“I like sex, so what?” Tyler said, “I didn’t cheat on you, not that you ever asked, or tried to talk to me about it like an adult.” 

“I know what I saw!” Jamie argued, the grip he had on Tyler’s arm the only thing keeping him upright. He was sure he was going to have a hand shaped bruise when he got home.

Fear prickling in his belly at the way Jamie was jerking him around like a ragdoll. His anger was fading and becoming replaced with fear. He was trembling, he was physically afraid of Jamie. He had never hit him before, despite the anger that was often directed Tyler’s way. Before, he would have said Jamie wasn’t capable of it, despite the anger he held within him. But Tyler remembered the way Jamie had forced him to his knees months before, his drunken mind wondering if he was about to become a victim of sexual assault. Tyler started shaking aggressively. He couldn’t help but wonder if physical violence was what was now coming. 

His eyes burned, tears clouding his vision. He hated that he was scared, he hated that Jamie had this power of him, that he was the father of his child and that their lives were going to be forever intertwined. He hated that Jamie was about to see him cry. 

Tyler heard a door open and someone enter the stair well. But he didn’t turn his head to see who it was, he felt paralyzed in Jamie’s grasp. His head spun with dizziness, another perk of pregnancy. He needed to be anywhere but here and he needed to sit down. He tried to jerk out of Jamie’s grasp. 

He heard someone call his name, and he was falling.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Two updates in two days? What is this craziness? (I am being a super nerd and writing fan fiction on a Friday night because everyone I know is at the party that my ex, the one that Jamie is loosely based on, is throwing) Anyway, once again this chapter is unbetaed. Not only is it finals week but I’m also excited about pushing this story forward. I apologize for any and all mistakes that I have made. If there are any particularly awful ones please let me know! 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic). This chapter references past events in this fic, such as fear of sexually assault. Additionally there is mention of Patrick in this fic even though he does not appear. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and sticking with this fic as things start to wind down! I love hearing what you all thinking! Thank you so much for everything. 
> 
> ALSO once again if anyone wants to say hey on tumblr (harass me about updates, talk hockey, talk fic, just talk, anything really) hit me up! You can find me as allylikethecat , I’m not the best at remembering I have a tumblr but I’m doing my best. 
> 
> Hope everyone has a great weekend!

“Mr. Benn, I need you to cooperate with us,” said that red headed woman who had introduced herself as Detective Shannon. Jamie swallowed back his frustration and nodded. He painted a smile typically reserved for the media across his features. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “can you repeat the question?” 

“What was your relationship with Mr. Tyler Seguin?” Shannon asked. Jamie swallowed hard. 

“We were, are, were? Teammates, I am, was, am? His captain.” Jamie said, careful to keep his voice steady even as he tripped over his words. 

“Is that all?” Shannon asked again, Jamie’s palms began to sweat and he looked down at the stainless steal table. He rubbed them against the smooth fabric of his suit pants before looking up.

“Yes.” He said, thankful that his voice didn’t waiver. Shannon looked down at the legal pad that sat before her. She picked it up and flipped to a previous page. 

“Can you explain to me what happened this evening?” Shannon asked and Jamie took a deep breath. 

“Ah, Tyler has been dealing with a lower body injury, and I’ve been working through some hip pain, left over from an injury last season. So, ah, we were both watching tonight’s game from the owners box. We were losing, and ah, we were supposed to go down to the locker room during the period break and try and cheer the team up a bit, build some moral so that hopefully we could turn the game around. We were talking at the top of the stairs,” Jamie explained, a far off look appearing in his eyes. “Tyler turned away from me, I guess to go down to the locker room, and he must have lost his balance or something? He fell.” 

Shannon nodded, and made a few notes on her legal pad. 

“The thing is Mr. Benn, Jamie, can I call you Jamie? Is that our eye witness has a very different account of tonight’s events, and unfortunately Tyler can’t tell us what really happened.” Shannon said. 

“An eye witness claims that you were romantically involved with Mr. Seguin, and that your relationship reached a nasty end a few months ago. The witness recounts that since your relationship was terminated that you have been harassing Mr. Seguin and generally making his life difficult, targeting him with derogatory language, and making wild accusations.” Shannon said. Jamie felt as if all of the air had been sucked out of the interrogation room. 

“Our witness claims that they saw Mr. Seguin and yourself arguing at the top of the stairs, that you used demeaning language to describe Mr. Seguin. The witness claims that you called him a ‘slut’ and that the exchange became physical. The witness stressed that they couldn’t be sure based on their vantage point, but it appeared that you then proceeded to push Mr. Seguin down the stairs.”

“What?” Jamie chocked, the weight of Detective Shannon’s words hitting him. He felt nauseous, his stomach rolled and he feared that he was going to be sick. 

“Did you or did you not push Mr. Seguin down the stairs?” asked Detective Shannon, her words cutting like a sharpened steel blade on delicate skin. 

“They think I pushed Tyler down the stairs?” he asked, the words bubbling from his lips through a chocked sob. He wondered when he had started crying. 

“Did you or did you not push Mr. Seguin down the stairs?” asked Detective Shannon. 

“How could they, how could anyone think I would do that? That I could do that?” Jamie sobbed, he ran his fingers through his hair, his bangs had long since escaped their gel prison and falling across his eyes. 

“Jamie, I have it from multiple sources that Mr. Seguin was terrified of you.” Detective Shannon said. 

“What?” Jamie asked, looking up, eyes wide and full of terror. “He was, he was scared of me?” 

“That is what the evidence suggests,” said Detective Shannon. “Did you or did you not push him down the stairs?” 

Jamie squeezed his eyes shut, trying to replay the moment that Tyler fell in his mind. He had been holding onto Tyler’s wrist, he was frustrated, the Stars were losing and it was their fault. He was so mad. Anger coursed through his veins, he needed to release the aggression. Tyler’s silence and the distance between them in the elevator had only angered him more. He had lashed out, pushing Tyler knowing that he would get a reaction. 

Tyler had pushed back, just as Jamie had expected, had hoped. But instead of the relief he had hoped for, it just seemed to make him angrier. He had grabbed Tyler’s wrist as they argued, trying to stall, trying to bide more time before they were confronted with the grim faces of their teammates, reminding Jamie what a failure of a captain he was. 

The next thing he knew, Tyler was falling. One minute he had been holding tight, the next Tyler was a crumpled heap at the bottom of the cement staircase. 

Lindy had walked into the stairwell, searching for them and the source of the heavy thud. He had started shouting, screaming for Justin, and the paramedics. Jamie had been frozen at the top of the stairs; his eyes squeezed shut, trying to block the image of Tyler unconscious in a heap, lying in a growing puddle of blood. 

“Did you or did you not push Mr. Seguin down the stairs?” Detective Shannon asked again. Jamie squeezed his eyes shut, and pressed the heels of his hands against them. 

“I don’t know,” he stammered. “I don’t know.” 

“How do you not know? Did you, or did you not push Mr. Seguin down the stairs?” Detective Shannon asked, her voice rising as Jamie became more and more hysterical. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know, oh my god, I don’t know,” he sobbed, repeating it like a prayer as dread seeped through his chest. 

“Were you aware that Mr. Seguin was pregnant?” Detective Shannon asked coolly. 

Jamie chocked, her words ripping him back to the present. 

“What?” he sobbed, the syllable tearing it’s way from his throat. His head spun, he felt dizzy, he wondered if he was going to pass out. 

“Mr. Seguin was just barely thirty weeks pregnant, with what witnesses say was your baby. Were you aware of this fact when you and Mr. Seguin argued?” she said. 

“Oh my god,” Jamie chocked, barely leaning over in time to vomit onto the floor. He chocked, continuing to dry heave, hunched over to the side. Detective Shannon watched, looking anything but amused. 

“We’re done here for now.” She said, standing up. Wrinkling her nose at the mess Jamie had made. “One of my colleagues will be into speak with you, and deal with that.” She gestured to the puddle of vomit and left the interrogation room. 

Jamie sat back up in the metal chair that was bolted to the floor. His world had been shaken, and quite possibly ended. Guilt burned through his chest, with the realization of just how awful he had been to Tyler. His insecurities in their relationship manifesting in harassment and emotional abuse that only escalated when their relationship ended. And the entire time Tyler had been pregnant with his child. 

More tears leaked from Jamie’s eyes. He was truly scum of the earth. He squeezed his eyes shut, and wondered if he really had pushed Tyler. If he really had killed his former lover and his unborn child. 

 

Jamie bucked his seat belt, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on his hands. His head was pounding, he wanted to go home and sleep forever. Shame burned in his chest, mingling with the icy guilt that squeezed his lungs, making it hard to breath. Jordie wouldn’t even look at him as he pulled away from the precinct. They had let him go, not having enough evidence to hold him. But Detective Shannon had made it very clear that his release was only temporary, and for now. 

“Tyler was pregnant,” Jamie, whispered, his voice rough, unrest settling into his bones. He needed Jordie to say something, the silence tearing him apart inside. 

“I know,” said Jordie harshly. “It was yours.” 

“What?” asked Jamie, shock coloring his voice. “What do you mean ‘I know?’”

“Tyler told me, or well, I figured it out and he confirmed it.” Jordie said, his now voice void of emotion. 

“You knew and you didn’t tell me?” Jamie asked, his words cracking, tears swelled in his eyes and he frantically tried to blink them away. “You knew I was going to be a father and you didn’t tell me?” 

Jordie swallowed audibly, not taking his eyes off of the road. Jamie squeezed his eyes shut not paying attention to where they were going. 

“He asked me not to,” he said softly, “he was terrified of you Jamie, absolutely terrified, you’ve treated him like shit all season, and you weren’t even that nice to him when you guys were together, and he loved you, but after everything that’s happened he was scared of you. He tried to tell you that he was pregnant, and instead you made him think he was going to be raped, like what the fuck Jamie. I don’t know what your problem is but you need to get yourself sorted out. Tyler did not deserve any of the abuse you threw his way, and you definitely don’t deserve to call yourself the father of that child. So no, I didn’t tell you.” Jordie said, his frustration becoming clearer with every word. 

“I’m sorry,” Jamie, whispered, the weight of everything he had done settling over him like a dark cloud. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t think sorry is going to cut it this time Jamie, plus it’s not even me you should be apologizing to.” Jordie said. He cut the engine, and turned to face his brother, looking at him for the first time. “Fuck, I can’t even look at you right now.” He took the keys out of the ignition and tossed them at Jamie’s chest. They bounced off his crumpled suit and fell to the floor of the truck. Jamie leaned over to pick them up. 

He heard the sound of an ambulance approaching, and looked out the window, realizing they were in the parking lot of a hospital. 

“Why are we here?” Jamie croaked, getting out of the car, to follow Jordie towards the building. Jordie turned back, looking at Jamie with such disgust that he felt himself recoil. 

“Go home Jamie, I can assure you that you’re not wanted here right now,” Jordie said coldly and disappeared through a set of automatic sliding glass doors. 

Jamie stared at the keys in his hand, then looked back up at the doors. He swallowed hard, and followed Jordie inside, confusion overtaking his thoughts. 

He followed Jordie through the twisting hallways, arriving in a small waiting room. Sharpy was sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs, Abby curled up against his side. Lindy and Justin were also present. Jamie blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. 

“Anymore news?” Jordie asked softly. Abby looked up, and shook her head. 

“Why is he here?” Sharpy asked roughly, seeing Jamie hovering in the background. Jordie turned, fixing his younger brother with an icy gaze. 

“I thought I told you to go home,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. 

“What’s going on?” Jamie asked confused and unsure. 

“Tyler is still in surgery,” Lindy said, speaking calmly. Jamie swallowed heavily. 

“What?” he asked, his voice weak and small. “He’s, he’s alive? I thought, I thought he wasn’t, oh my god.” Jamie said, he felt light headed, falling to the floor in shock.   
“He might not be for much longer,” snapped Sharpy, “it isn’t looking good.” 

“I just got off the phone with Tyler Brown,” said Nill, walking into the waiting room, causing Jamie to spin around. “His flight should land in about two hours, I’ve already arranged for a car to be waiting for him.” 

Nill sat down heavily in one of the plastic chairs and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“What the fuck are you doing here Benn?” Nill asked, fixing Jamie with a cool gaze. 

“I don’t, I, I’m sorry,” Jamie stammered, not sure how to react to the hostility of his GM just as Jordie announced, “I tried to make him go home, but he followed me in.” 

“What’s going on?” he asked again, desperate for information. Fixating on the fact that Tyler was alive. He had been sure he had been dead at the foot of the stairs, the police who had taken him in for questioning doing nothing to correct his assumptions as he sobbed. 

Lindy sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Tyler is in surgery. He broke three ribs, one of which punctured his left lung. He was experiencing massive internal bleeding and is at risk of a concussion, but they won’t know for sure until, if, he regains consciousness. The trauma put him into a premature labor, and the baby is in distress. But they need to stabilize him before they can perform the cesarean section, which is what they are trying to do now. They’re not sure if they’re going to make it.” Lindy said. 

He laid out the information as best he could in a sterile and detached fashion. Jamie nodded, his eyes filling with tears again. He pulled himself off the floor, moving to sit in one of the chairs away from the group. Jordie looked over at him, and Jamie knew without asking what was spinning through his brain. Did Jamie push him? Jamie squeezed his eyes shut. He wished he could answer that question. 

Nill’s phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID. He stood up, moving into the hallway to take the call. He returned a few minutes later. 

“Finally got ahold of Seguin’s mother,” he said darkly. “She said she would be on the first flight down.” 

“Damn,” said Sharpy biting his lip, “What did you tell her?” 

“That Tyler had been involved in an accident and that we would keep her updated as we gained more information.” Nill said, he sounded exhausted, everyone did. 

“He’ll love that,” said Abby, “they aren’t close, he was careful to make sure she didn’t find out he was pregnant.”

“Seems like Tyler was keeping that from a lot of people.” Jamie said bitterly, regretting it before the words had even left his mouth. 

Sharpy was standing before Jamie could even process what was happening. “Yeah,” he said “he was ashamed of who the father was.” He spat. 

Jamie felt his blood boil and he tried to swallow back the anger and frustration. He knew that Sharpy was upset and worried, he and Tyler were incredibly close. Sharpy was lashing out because he was scared. But Jamie had even less control over his temper.

“You guys are sure it was even me?” He asked, he didn’t even have a chance to wonder when he had stood up before he felt Sharpy’s fist collide with his face. 

“You’re such a piece of shit,” Sharpy snarled, he had managed to knock Jamie to the ground. With Chicago, and now with Dallas, Sharpy didn’t have a reputation as a fighter. But back in Philadelphia he hadn’t shied away from bashing the face in of someone who deserved it. Jamie flailed, managing to land a blow to the side of Sharpy’s mouth before bringing his hands up to protect his face. 

“Jesus Sharp,” someone swore, and suddenly Sharpy was ripped away from Jamie. “Sit your ass down before you get kicked out.” 

Blood gushed from Jamie’s nose and he was willing to bet that it was broken. He sat up slowly, Sharpy was giving him a death glare from his reclaimed seat next to Abby, a tissue pressed to his lip. 

“I’ll go find a nurse to reset that,” said Justin coolly speaking for the first time. “It’s so unfortunate that you tripped over a chair and brought Patrick down with you.” 

Tears prickled in Jamie’s eyes and he knew better than to speak. The look Jordie gave him was full of sadness. He made no effort to defend him or support him. His expression making it clear that he felt as if Jamie deserved what he was getting. Jamie tilted his head back trying to stop to flow of blood from getting all over the waiting room. He knew he deserved what he was getting. He wondered if he should leave as soon as the nurse reset his nose. But shook his head than winced. He needed to be here, he needed to tell Tyler how sorry he was. If, when, he woke up. He knew that sorry wasn’t going to fix anything, but he needed to at least try.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be studying for finals! But what am I actually doing? Writing fan fiction woo! This chapter is unbetaed because most people I know are better students than I am and currently taking this time to study. Therefore, I apologize for any and all mistakes that I have made. (I am very much so not an English major). If there are any particularly awful ones please let me know! 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic). This chapter references past events in this fic, such as fear of sexually assault. Additionally there is mention of Patrick in this fic even though he does not appear. 
> 
> This fic is very nearing the end! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter (as always let me know what you think!) 
> 
> ALSO once again if anyone wants to say hey on tumblr (harass me about updates, talk hockey, talk fic, just talk, anything really) hit me up! You can find me as allylikethecat , I’m not the best at remembering I have a tumblr but I’m doing my best. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and being great <3

Patrick’s head throbbed. Abby shifted against his shoulder where she had fallen asleep, burying her face in the crock of his neck. Impatience, worry and fear ached in his chest. He was desperate for news. 

“Need anything?” Justin asked softly, resting a hand on Patrick’s free shoulder. He swallowed back bitter words, “For Tyler to be okay,” expressing his anger would get them nowhere everyone was waiting on edge. Instead he whispered, “Do you have any Advil? My head is killing me.” 

“I’ll get some from a nurse,” Justin promised, before sleeping out of the waiting room in search of coffee. Abby was slumped against Patrick’s side, Lindy had made himself a pillow out of his suit jacket and was stretched across multiple chairs. Jordie’s chin was resting against his chest, as he snored softly. Jamie was wondering the halls following the hostility of those waiting for news on Tyler. Nill had disappeared about an hour ago to take a phone call. Now that Justin was gone, Patrick was the only one awake. 

There was something eerie about hospital waiting rooms at four am. The bright white walls and glowing fluorescent lights creating a sterile environment. It felt like time was suspended. Patrick had been sitting in this waiting room since Tyler had been admitted hours earlier. 

As Tyler was carried away, looking young and broken on a stretcher, Patrick had frantically stripped off his gear, telling Lindy harshly that he was done for the afternoon, puck having dropped at one. 

Abby had met him at the hospital and the waiting began. As the game ending others joined them. First Nill, then Lindy and Jordie. Jamie too once he had finished at the police station for the time being. Lindy had roughly told the rest of the team to stay away until they had more information. He left Tyler’s pregnancy out of his statement. 

Tyler had been rushed into surgery, trying to stabilize him and the baby. They were prepared to deliver the child, even weeks early, but had stressed that they would have a better chance if Tyler’s body could hold on a little longer. 

That had been hours ago. Patrick stared blankly ahead, wishing that this were all some kind of dream. That he would make up to find Tyler grinning at him from the other side of the hotel room. No matter how hard Patrick wished, he knew that would not be the case. 

His gaze drifted to the clock on he wall, steadily ticking away, though he worked hard to block the rhythmic sound out. Tyler’s Brownie should be arriving any minute now. He had texted that his flight had landed, and Nill had arranged for a car to take him directly to the hospital. 

“Hey,” Justin whispered, pressing a cold water bottle against the side of Patrick’s face, causing him to shift, nearly dislodging Abby. 

“Thanks,” he said, taking the water, and the three offered pills he held in his palm. He swallowed them dry, before chasing them with the water. 

His phone vibrated, and he looked, seeing a text from Brownie that he was in the lobby, and asking where to go. Carefully, Patrick wiggled out of Abby’s grasp.

“Tyler’s best friend is here,” Patrick, whispered, “I’ll be right back.” 

Justin nodded, and settled back down into his chair. Patrick paused, draping his suit jacket over Abby. 

Brownie was pacing just inside the doors of the hospital lobby, looking just as rough as Patrick felt. He mustered up a weak smile as soon as he saw Patrick, wrapping him in an unexpected hug. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice rough, he still hadn’t let go of Patrick. Part of him wanted to laugh, Brownie was just as physical as Tyler was. 

“It’s good to see you,” Patrick said, “Just wish it was under better circumstances.” 

Brownie smiled weakly, his eyes were red, and suddenly Patrick realized that he must have been crying. “For sure.” 

“Has there been anymore news?” Brownie asked as they rounded a corner. Patrick shook his head. 

“Just that he made it through the first surgery, and that they were waiting to see if he will stabilize, they’re trying to avoid a premature delivery,” Patrick said. 

“God, this fucking sucks,” said Brownie, his voice cracking. “I just, this isn’t supposed to happen to Tyler, he’s just, he’s so good, he doesn’t deserve any of the shit that’s been thrown his way. Between his dad, and his mom being a raging bitch, and the Boston trade, and getting involved with that Benn asshole, and now this,” Brownie broke off with a sob, sitting down heavily, and running his fingers through his hair. 

“I wish I could trade places with him,” Brownie said, Patrick sat down next to him and rubbed soothing circles against his back. 

“Tyler’s a fighter,” Patrick said softy, “he’ll make it through this.” 

Of all the ways he saw his first year in Dallas going, this was never in the cards. He never thought that Tyler Seguin would become his best friend. He never thought that Jamie Benn would be an abusive asshole. Or that Tyler would get pregnant, and then end up fighting for his and his child’s life. Brownie turned, tucking himself into Patrick’s chest, Patrick wanted to scream, wanted to curse fate for the cruel hand that it had dealt Tyler. But instead he did what he did best, and did his best to comfort those around him. It was the only way he knew how to keep from falling apart himself.

Brownie sniffled, and looked up at Patrick with wide wet eyes. 

“You’re good to him Sharpy,” Brownie said softly, wiping at his nose with the sleeve of his Boston Bruins hoodie. Patrick bit his lip when he saw the 19 on the sleeve, realizing that it must have once been Tyler’s back in the day. 

“I just, when he gets through this he’s going to need you,” said Brownie, “like, he’s going to be okay, and he’s going to need help, and he’s bad at asking for it, and like he got a tattoo of the Stanley cup on his ass because he was drunk, and like you need to make sure he’s okay, and realizes he’s not stupid and there are people that care about him.” 

Patrick nodded; he had no illusions of doing anything else. In a few short months, Tyler had managed to become one of the most important people in his life. Not only had he become one of his best friends, but apart of their little family. 

Brownie leaned back in his chair, pulling away from Patrick. He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. Trying to calm himself from his hysterical outburst.

“Is it true that Mrs. Seguin is on her way down?” Brownie asked.

Patrick winced then nodded. “Unfortunately, Nill, our GM had to call her though, she wasn’t his emergency contact, or next of kin but she’s still listed in his file as needing to be updating if anything happened.” 

Brownie nodded, and sighed, “She still doesn’t even know Ty’s pregnant, he was terrified to tell her.” 

“I know,” Patrick said, mentally trying to brace himself for the incoming hurricane that was Tyler’s mother. 

“Is there a Jamie Benn?” asked a young looking nurse. Interrupting their conversation. Both Patrick and Brownie looked up sharply, standing up as they went. 

“He’s here, somewhere, he was feeling restless and went for a walk,” lied Patrick, following her into the hall, Brownie on his heels. 

“I’ll page him,” she said, disappearing behind the nurse’s desk. A few minutes later Jamie appeared. The bruising around his eyes had darkened since Patrick had last seen him, and his nose was heavily bandaged. Patrick smiled despite himself. 

“How is he?” Brownie asked, blurting out the question on everyone’s mind. The nurse smiled, her name badge reading Daisy. She glanced over at Jamie but didn’t answer. 

“Are you Jamie Benn?” she asked and Jamie nodded, unsure of what was happening. Patrick’s heart jumped into his throat. He knew where this was going and he didn’t like it. 

“Yeah,” Jamie said, his voice coming out nasally due to his broken nose. 

“Are you aware that you’re Mr. Seguin’s power of attorney?” she asked and Jamie paled. 

“Ah, I thought he had changed that,” he admitted and the nurse smiled softly. 

“Afraid not,” said Daisy. Patrick wanted to scream, Brownie’s hands clenched into fists as he stood at Patrick’s side, a few paces away from the nurse and Daisy. The man who may or may not have pushed Tyler down a flight of stairs, the man who verbally abused him was going to be making his medical decisions. 

Jamie glanced over at Patrick and Brownie, “do you have a status update or anything?” he asked, stumbling over his words, “they can know too,” he said awkwardly gesturing over to Patrick and Brownie who moved closer.

“We’re still working to get him and keep him stabilized. Currently we have him in an induced coma, we were able to repair the punctured lung, and we believe we were able to control the internal bleeding, however only time will tell.” She explained, Brownie’s eyes had glazed over, as he focused on the words induced coma. Patrick nodded along, trying to retain as much information as possible. Jamie’s expression was unreadable.

“And the baby?” Patrick asked, wincing at the way he had phrased it. 

“We’re going to perform a caesarian section as soon we can get Tyler any semblance of stable.” Daisy explained. She swallowed hard, her expression turning grim. “I need to ask, Mr. Benn, as Mr. Seguin’s power of attorney,” Jamie squeezed his eyes shut suddenly knowing what was coming, “if it comes down to it, and we can only save one, do you want us to prioritize Mr. Seguin’s life, or the life of his child?” 

Jamie swallowed hard. “I don’t think I can make that decision,” he said honestly, his voice cracking. Brownie’s eyes grew wet again. 

“You might have to,” said Daisy. “I’ll have the doctor come speak with you quickly before they start the surgery, we’ll need your answer by then.” 

Daisy turned away, heading back through a set of double doors that the rag tag group was not allowed through. 

“Tyler,” said Jamie, his voice cracking. “If it comes down to it, please save Tyler.”


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be learning everything there is to know about economics right now because my exam is in two hours but instead I’m updating Trees because I definitely have my priorities in order. 
> 
> This chapter is unbetaed, all mistakes are my own.
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic). Additionally there is mention of Patrick in this fic even though he does not appear. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! We’re so so close to the end! Let me know what you think of this chapter, this story, or even just how this hockey season is going! 
> 
> Also feel free to come say hey on tumblr, I can be found as allylikethecat when I remember that that blog exists. 
> 
> THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING AND I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY!

Tyler felt like he was being held underwater. He tried to fight against the hold but found he couldn’t make it to the surface. The longer he stayed under, his lungs filling with water, the less he seemed to mind. He was dimly aware that there were people shouting, swarming around him. They were trying to yank him to the surface. Tyler wasn’t sure he wanted to be there anymore. Everything hurt before, and the deeper he fell, the less and less his body ached, and the less and less things mattered. 

He opened his eyes slowly. His entire body ached, each breath painful, like a rubber band squeezing his chest. His eyes flickered side to side, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Everything was blurry; panic gripped his chest like a vice when he realized he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there, or where his glasses were and why he wasn’t wearing them.

He took stock of his body, his mind felt sluggish, and like a college marching band was practicing in his skull. Overall everything hurt. His heart jumped into his throat as he wondered if he had gotten drunk and passed out somewhere. He squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to focus on his breathing, it was uneven and his chest hurt, trying to recall the last thing he could remember. 

He had interviewed a nanny, Kate. Then he was supposed to go somewhere with Abby. He couldn’t remember where, or why. Nanny. Tyler’s eyes flew open, his hands falling to his painful abdomen. 

It wasn’t flat, far from it, still rounding out in a pronounced curve, but it didn’t feel right. Something was wrong. Tyler tried to sit up, but found that he couldn’t even beginning to raise his body, it brought about far too much agony. The panic grew, where was he, what had happened to his baby? Tears filled his eyes and he hated that he was about to start crying. 

“Mr. Seguin,” said an older gentleman softly. Tyler squinted; he was wearing pale green scrubs and a smile. Tyler hadn’t realized that he wasn’t alone.

“It’s so nice to see you awake, I’ll be right back, I’m going to get you some ice chips. The doctor will be in shortly.” He said, in a faded Scottish accent and Tyler was alone again. 

Awake? Ice chips? Doctor? How long had he been out? Why did he need ice chips, why did he need a doctor? With a sinking feeling Tyler realized he must be in a hospital. Knowing his location did nothing to quell the fear burning in his chest. If anything, it made it worse. A hospital could mean nothing good. 

“Here you go Mr. Seguin,” said the nurse, pressing an ice chip to Tyler’s dry lips. He parted them, holding the coolness in his mouth before swallowing as it melted into liquid. He tried to raise his hand, to take the cup of ice chips from the nurse, not wanting him to take them away, but found that he couldn’t. He was hooked up to an IV and an oxygen reader and it was restricting his movements. 

“My name is Darren,” said the man cheerfully, “You gave us all quiet a scare there, let me tell you,” he said, picking up Tyler’s chart from the end of his bed to make a few notes. “You have a lot of people here worried about you, your mother in particular, terrifying woman, it must be because she loves you so much.” 

“Baby,” Tyler managed to crock his voice gravelly. Even speaking hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut, another tear leaking down his cheek. 

“The doctor will be in, in a minute,” Darren said, not answering Tyler’s question. A few more tears leaked from his eyes. Tyler didn’t even have the strength to sob. 

He must have fallen asleep again because when he opened his eyes again there was a middle-aged woman wearing a white coat over her scrubs. 

“Hi Tyler,” she said softly, “I’m Doctor Fowler,” she said. She seemed kind. Tyler blinked. 

“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked and Tyler tried to shake his head but once again found that the pain of doing so was nearly unbearable. 

“There was an accident, you ended up at the bottom of a staircase,” she explained, “we’ve had you in an induced coma for the past two days. Once you’re feeling up to it, you’re going to have to bring in a detective to speak with you about what happened.”

“Baby,” Tyler managed to rasp his throat still stinging despite the few ice chips he had managed to swallow. He didn’t care what had happened to him, or that a detective wants to talked to him. He wanted to know what had happened to his child.

Doctor Fowler smiled, “You have a healthy little girl,” she said and Tyler felt a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding escape his lungs. He coughed, tears now actively streaming down his face. He had a little girl. She was okay. 

“She was born via emergency C-section about a day and a half ago.” Dr. Fowler explained. “When you came in you had immense internal bleeding, we were able to get it mostly under control, but your little girl was still in distress. You’re body had a hard time handling the delivery and you ended up hemorrhaging.” 

Tyler blinked, he didn’t care that he was admitted with internal bleeding or that he hemorrhaged during the delivery. He was ignoring the panic of finding out that he had been in an induced coma. He wanted to see his daughter, with his own two eyes and his less than stellar vision and prove to himself that she was all right. That she was alive and healthy. 

“Baby?” Tyler asked, he needed to see his daughter. Doctor Fowler could tell him all about how he had fucked up his body after. 

“I’ll have a nurse bring her in for you,” Doctor Fowler said. 

“Thank,” he rasped. Nothing else mattered, he had a daughter, and she was okay. 

“Your throat should start to feel better soon,” Doctor Fowler, explained, “we had to intubate you rather roughly.” 

A nurse wheeled in a clear enclosed crib. Inside was a pink wrinkled baby with tiny tuffs of dark hair wearing the smallest diaper Tyler had ever seen. He was in love. 

“Would you like the hold her?” Tyler asked, nodding sharply before wincing. His head was pounding. But daughter.

Doctor Fowler opened up the crib and carefully lifted the baby out. She wrapped her in a small pale blue blanket and held her out to Tyler. 

“Careful,” she said, “you also have three broken ribs and one of them punctured your left lung.” 

Tyler ignored her, as he looked down upon his daughter, nestled in his arms. 

“She’s perfect,” he said hoarsely, unable to stop the smile from his dry lips and the tears that leaked from his eyes. 

“Do you have a name?” Doctor Fowler asked, “We left the birth certificate blank. The father said that her name was up to you.” 

Tyler blinked then looked back down at his daughter. He had forgotten about Jamie. Oh god, his heart started racing. That meant that Jamie knew about the baby, that he knew he had been pregnant, that he knew he was now a father. Tyler blinked again. He remembered Jamie yelling at him, and him yelling right back, but it was all hazy. Jamie was holding onto his arm, screaming at him, and then suddenly he wasn’t. Tyler squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want Jamie anywhere near his daughter. 

“Her name is Georgia Anne Seguin.”


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbetaed. 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic). This chapter references past events in this fic, such as fear of sexually assault. Additionally there is mention of Patrick Kane in this fic even though he does not appear. 
> 
> After this we just have one chapter left! Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Also feel free to come friendship with me on tumblr, I can be found as allylikethecat 
> 
> ALSO even though this fic is ending and because apparently I hate myself (get pumped this is some shameless self promo) I’ve started another chaptered fic, so be on the look out for that! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading <3

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jamie asked softly. Tyler opened his eyes. His hand fell to his stomach protectively before he remembered that he had already had his baby. He flinched, his abdomen was incredibly tender. He blinked, his mind fuzzy from the morphine flowing through his blood stream. 

He turned his head to look at the clock next to his hospital bed. He squinted trying to make out the glowing red numbers. It was two in the morning. Sluggishly he wondered how Jamie had even gotten into his room so late. 

“Why didn’t you tell me I was going to be a father?” Jamie asked again, his voice cracking. 

Tyler blinked, tears welling in his eyes. He felt overwhelmed, still trying to process everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. He had been trying his best to hold it all together, but Jamie appearing now was testing his limits. 

That day he had met his newborn daughter for the first time, then talking to a Detective Shannon who was trying to prove that Jamie had pushed him down the stairs. He had sobbed in frustration, nearly tearing the stitches above his eye as he tried to remember what had happened with no success. 

The detective had sighed and explained that the case would be closed, since they couldn’t find the evidence they needed to arrest Jamie. He wasn’t even sure if he would have wanted them to arrest Jamie. That had only caused him to cry harder, his hormones all over the place. Detective Shannon had patted him awkwardly on the shoulder and assured him that it was okay that he wasn’t going to press charges. 

At that point Tyler had stopped listening, not caring that even if they couldn’t get Jamie on attempted manslaughter, he could be prosecuted for domestic abuse. He just wanted Detective Shannon to leave and for Jamie not to have get any shot at custody of his daughter. Detective Shannon had mimicked what his lawyer had explained when he brought it up earlier. That with Jamie’s history of anger management issues there was no chance the courts would give him custody if it came to it. 

Tyler probably would never know if he had fallen or if he had been pushed. For some reason that didn’t devastate him as much as it should have. His daughter was healthy, though born early. She would have to spend a few weeks in the NICU but Lexa, a NICU nurse, had assured him that she wouldn’t be faced with any lasting issues. And the father of his child wasn’t going to have any chance at custody.

Seeing Brownie, Jordie, Sharpy and Abby and the unwavering support that they offered him, had lead to more tears. He questioned how he had ended up lucky enough to have these people in his life. They had cooed over Georgia, confirming to Tyler just how perfect she was, causing his heart to swell with pride. He might have been bias, but Georgia really was the best baby. He was happy that he had decided to include Jordie in her life. He had marveled over how small she was, even though Tyler was quick to remind him that she was a whole fourteen and a half inches and four pounds two ounces. 

Sharpy had snickered and good naturally asked Tyler how he managed to put on so much weight when he had such a tiny baby. Tyler had thrown an ice chip at him but it had made him smile. Sharpy teasing him like normal made him feel like he would be okay. 

After they had left, his mother appeared in his hospital room, only to leave without a word when she found out that she was a grandmother. It had shaken Tyler, however, it had gone smoother than he expected. He thought that he would be shouted at or officially disowned. Silence was shocking but preferable to the visible anger he had been expecting. He had fallen asleep sometimes after that, all of the visitors leaving him wiped out. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Jamie asked. Tears streamed down Tyler’s cheeks, he sat up, trying to stretch his body upward so that he could see Georgia’s crib. He gasped in pain. Without his glasses she was a blurry pink blob sleeping peacefully in her bubble. Tyler turned his gaze back to Jamie. His heart beating heavily in his chest, the thud making his ribs ache. 

“No.” Tyler said, “I wasn’t going to tell you.” His voice was rough but his words rang clear. 

“Why?” Jamie asked, and Tyler laughed cruelly. 

“Why? You’re seriously asking why I wasn’t going to tell you?” Tyler spat, keeping his voice low as not to wake up Georgia. She really was the best baby.

“Yes! She’s my daughter too!” Jamie said, raising his voice slightly before wincing and glancing over at Georgia’s bubble. 

“Jamie,” Tyler said, he was so, so tired. “You verbally abused me our entire relationship, then you continued to abuse me after you broke up with me for something I didn’t do.” Tyler explained, his heart was racing, but he wasn’t done. Jamie’s face fell as Tyler continued, he knew he was being blunt and clinical, but he didn’t know how else to phrase it. 

“Then when I found out I was pregnant, and tried to tell you, you nearly sexually assaulted me, now you may or may not have nearly killed me and my child by shoving me down a flight of stairs but I can’t remember if you did or not because I have a concussion from when I fell.”

“I’m sorry,” Jamie whispered, he sounded as broken as Tyler’s body. He laughed again, hysterical from the emotions raging through him, the drugs in his blood stream and the pain of his injuries. 

“I think that is the first time that you’ve ever told me you were sorry,” Tyler said, “in all the years that I’ve known you, you’ve never once apologized.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jamie said again. Tyler shook his head, and then winced. Moving his head that much was incredibly painful. 

“Sometimes it’s too late to say sorry,” Tyler, said. 

Jamie squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the firsts at his sides to uncurl. 

“So what? You’re just going to do this all by yourself?” said Jamie his words biting. “You know you’re stuck with her until she’s eighteen right? You can’t just give her back when you get bored. You’re going to have to give up hockey.” 

“Fuck you,” Tyler growled, “Georgia is the most important thing in my life.” 

“You need me,” Jamie tried to argue, “She’s my daughter too and you can’t raise her by yourself.” 

“I can and I will,” Tyler said again. 

“Legally she’s mine too,” Jamie tried again he was getting extremely desperate. 

“Jamie,” Tyler said, the fight was draining out of him, exhaustion making his eye lids heavy. 

“Jamie, I talked to my lawyer weeks ago, I’m not going to have any issues getting full custody, as far as the legal system is concerned, you’re an abusive asshole with anger issues.” 

“So what? You’re going to quit playing hockey and join the PTA?” Jamie asked, the weight of how Tyler saw him starting to sink in. “Because I have a hard time believing that you’re fit to be a parent.” 

“Get out.” Tyler growled. 

Jamie didn’t budge. “Jamie get the fuck out of my hospital room or I am going to call security and you are never going to see Georgia again.” 

 

When Tyler woke up again, his mother was sitting by his bedside, Georgia in her arms. He wondered if his interaction with Jamie had been a drug-induced dream. He groped around the bedside table and his fingers closed around his glasses that Brownie had been kind enough to bring him. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, then winced, realizing that might have not been the best thing to say to the woman whom he didn’t trust, but was holding his child. He shoved his glasses onto his face, careful of the cut above his eye. His mother and Georgia came into focus.

“Meeting my granddaughter,” his mother said softly, her gaze not shifting off of Georgia’s face. “The nurse that let me in said her name was Georgia Anne. It’s a pretty name.” 

“Thanks,” Tyler said, uncertainly, he felt like he was circling a wild animal. Maybe it was still the drugs, maybe he was so high that he was hallucinating. 

“She’s cute,” his mother said again, tearing her gaze away from Georgia to meet Tyler’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he found himself blurting out, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was apologizing for. 

“It was incredibly shocking to get a phone call informing me that you had been in an accident, especially when you hadn’t been playing the past few weeks,” his mother said. 

Tyler swallowed hard unable to get a read on her emotions. He opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it. 

“It was even more shocking to arrive and Dallas and find out that you had just given birth to a daughter, and that the reason you had were hurt is because you had been dumped by Jamie Benn, the father of your daughter, and he may or may not have pushed you down the stairs.” She said. 

“I’m sorry,” Tyler said, he glanced down at the blankets covering his lap. He fiddled with the tape holding his IV in place. 

“I’m sorry too,” his mother said, and Tyler looked up sharply, his mouth falling open. 

“I know I’m hard on you.” She said softly, “I got an ear full from an Abby Sharp when I got here.” 

Tyler smiled faintly. Abby always had his back. 

“But I didn’t mean to make you think you couldn’t talk to me or tell me things,” she said, she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry that you had to go through all of this alone.” 

“I had Abby, and Sharpy, and Brownie,” Tyler said, he bit his lip, he had felt alone sometimes but he wasn’t going to tell his mother that. “I wasn’t really alone.” 

“I met your OBGYN earlier, introduced herself as Leslie? It seemed like you were in good hands,” his mother said. She bit her lip. “I still should have been there for you though,” she said, and she looked like she meant it too. 

Tyler blinked, desperately wondering whom this woman holding his baby before him was and what had she done with his mother. 

“It’s fine,” Tyler said, wondering if this was really happening, if his mother was really trying to fix their relationship. 

“What’s going to happen to your career?” his mother asked and Tyler sighed, that was more like the woman he knew. 

“I’ll be back next season, my contract is air tight,” Tyler said, “and I have a nanny, Jim Nill recommended her, her name is Kate.” As soon as he was out of the hospital he needed to send her an official offer. 

His mother nodded, “and what are you going to say about your daughter?” 

Tyler shrugged, and then winced. “I’ve gotten really good at saying no comment.” 

“You’re a parent now, you’re going to have to get your act together,” she said. Tyler squeezed his eyes shut. “That means no more sleeping around, no more partying, no more eating chicken nuggets at three am.”

“Cravings are a thing,” Tyler muttered, but she didn’t hear him. 

“You’re not just responsible for yourself now,” she said, “everything you do, every little thing you do is going to impact Georgia’s life, and you need to consider how all of your choices are going to impact her life.” 

“Georgia is the most important thing in my life,” Tyler said, meaning every word. “I, I mean, I know she wasn’t planned, and I really wish Jamie wasn’t her father, but she is the only thing that matters now.” 

His mother nodded, “maybe you won’t be a terrible parent after all.” 

Tyler forced a smile, knowing that was the most approval he was going to get, and coming for his mother, it actually meant more than he was willing to admit. 

 

Tyler was discharged from the hospital a week later. Georgia would be staying in the NICU for a few more weeks before she would be able to come home, but that just gave Tyler more time to make sure everything was perfect. His mobility still wasn’t great, but his stomach had lost the roundness of post pregnancy. Now he was just fat. Abby was quick to point out that he actually looked really good for everything his body had been through, but now that Georgia had been born, he was ready to get his abs back. 

Brownie was staying with him for another week, as the Stars worked to advance past the first round of the play offs. Tyler felt bad that he wasn’t fully keeping up with how his team was doing, but as Sharpy assured him that he was cut some slack considering his situation. 

Despite his slow recovery, Tyler was pleased that his daily exercise allowance had been upped. Now instead of shuffling to the bathroom, he was shuffling to the end of his driveway with Brownie to get the mail. They would then shuffle back to the house where he would then pass out on the couch for an hour before making Brownie drive him to the hospital to see Georgia. Not that convincing Brownie to drive him was very difficult. 

Tyler tried to hide from Brownie how winded he was from their little excursion by opening the mail as soon as he took it out of the mailbox. There was a padded envelope with a Pennsylvania return address that Tyler ripped open in confusion. 

Inside was a card with a pink teddy bear on the front, the inside holding a scrawled note congratulating Tyler on the birth of his daughter, along with a stuffed penguin. Tyler smiled despite himself. He didn’t even want to know how Sidney Crosby knew he had a baby. The penguin was cute too, even if it was a penguin. 

There was also a congratulatory card from Pat and Johnny. Tyler knew it must have stung for them to write, considering their own fertility issues. There was a gift card for a Baby’s R Us, which Tyler assumed Johnny had picked out, always the practical one. Tyler wondered if they resented him, they had been trying for years to get pregnant and Tyler managed it by accident.

When they made it back to the house, Tyler hung the cards on the refrigerator, and placed the penguin a shelf in the nursery along with a bear from Bergy, and a stuffed lobster from Marchy.

His sisters had sent him an onside for Georgia that said “I’m told I like hockey” on the front. It would be too big for a while now, but Tyler couldn’t wait to take pictures of her in it. They also made plans to come down as soon as school was out. Tyler knew the guilt of missing their spring break trip was wearing on them heavily, especially since he had almost died.

Sharpy had won baby gift giving though, he had given Tyler a round baby blanket that looked like a tortilla, so that he could wrap Georgia up like an actual burrito. He couldn’t wait to get her home and take ten thousand pictures of his little burrito and send them to everyone that knew he had a kid.

“You want to take a nap now, or go see your girl?” Brownie asked and Tyler turned away from the stuffed animals, blushing that he had gotten caught arranging them all just so. He yawned, he was tired but if Brownie was going to take him to see Georgia now…

“Fuck the nap, I wanna see my baby girl,” Tyler said and Brownie grinned. Unable to keep the smile off his face Tyler gingerly following Brownie down the stairs and to the car. He couldn’t wait to see his girl.


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! This is the end! Six months ago I started writing and publish my first ever fanfic and now it’s all done! 
> 
> HUGE thank you to talkingraccoon for being a true help and inspiration when this whole project started, thank you to The Roommate for helping beta, and listening to me ramble about this project at all hours (she couldn’t even escape we live in the same place), and THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone who said hi on tumblr (I can be found as allylikethecat) you’re amazing and I’m so happy that we’ve gotten to communicate. 
> 
> Once again: 
> 
> This chapter is unbetaed so any and all mistakes are my own and I’m super sorry about them. 
> 
> I don't own any of these characters/people, nothing that happens in this is real, it’s all fake. I doubt Jamie Benn is this mean in real life.
> 
> Throughout this fic Jamie is essentially bullying Tyler, and at times is verbally abusive. (See the notes in the first chapter for more information regarding general warnings for this fic). This chapter references past events in this fic, such as fear of sexually assault. Additionally there is mention of Patrick in this fic even though he does not appear. 
> 
> Also I wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who has read this story, everyone who has left kudos or commented or clicked on it and then quickly backspaced. You’re amazing and inspiring and thank you so much! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this fic and I hope you like the ending! If not I hope you at least enjoyed it up until this point, or enjoyed some of it, AND I hope everyone is having a wonderful evening and a happy holidays! 
> 
> THANK YOU! 
> 
> <3

Tyler had a smudge of brownie batter across his cheek. He had told Leigh Anne Whitmire that he would bring brownies to the PTA bake sale. But his on ice work out had run late and now he was scrambling to get them in the oven before dinner. Turns out Tyler’s competitive streak extended past the ice and into the PTA. He had fought tooth and nail but was met with success. He was currently the newly elected PTA vice president. If he got his way he would over throw Leigh Anne and be president by the next school year. 

Georgia was sitting across from him at the counter, perching on her special stool working on a page in her new Disney princess coloring book. She was completely oblivious to her father’s schemes of over throwing the hierarchy. Tyler was just pleased that Georgia thought that Connie Whitmire, Leigh Anne’s daughter was a bitch. Not that she had used that word, but Tyler had met the five year old enough times to know that if it was in Georgia’s vocabulary, which it wasn’t, it would have been applied. 

“Daddy can we get pizza for dinner?” she asked, looking up at Tyler with her wide brown eyes that managed to make him bend to nearly anything. He bit his lip. He knew that he should insist on something healthier, but pizza honestly sounded great right now. 

“Only if we put veggies on it,” he compromised, finally getting the brownie batter from the bowl into the pan. Things always looked easier on pintrest. 

“Deal,” she said happily, going back to her coloring. Tyler opened the oven and slid the brownies in. He was putting the mixing bowl into the sink when Indiana, their six month old yellow lab puppy bolted from where she was laying with Marshall and Cash. She ran to the door and barked happily. 

“You’ve gotten so big!” He heard a voice say, he abandoned the dishes and moved into the hallway, where Jordie was now sitting on the floor petting Indiana. Tyler wondered if he should reconsider how many people had keys to his house.

“Hey,” Tyler said, nearly getting knocked over by Georgia as she bolted past him to get to Jordie. 

“Uncle Jordie!” she squealed jumping onto his back. 

“Hey princess,” he said peeling her off his back so that he could give her a hug. 

“I missed you,” she said burying her face in his shoulder. “Why did we have to come to Texas without you?” 

“Because you’re a big girl now, and had to start first grade,” Jordie said cheerfully and Tyler smiled. 

“Why don’t you go get your new stuffed puppy to show Uncle Jordie?” Tyler asked and Georgia’s eyes grew wide. 

“Her name is Miss. Carolina,” reminded Georgia, “should I bring her outfits to?” 

“Of course I want to see all her outfits!” Jordie said and Georgia nodded before taking up downstairs. Her dark pigtails swinging as she went. Tyler smiled, the super cute hair style was also from pintrest.

“We went to Build-a-Bear as a reward for filling up her star chart,” Tyler explained as Jordie pulled himself off the floor. 

“You spoiler her so bad,” teased Jordie pulling Tyler in for a hug, Tyler hummed and tucked his face into the crock of Jordie’s neck. 

“I missed you too you know,” Tyler said, his words muffled. Jordie pulled back slightly so that he could kiss Tyler’s forehead. 

“I missed you too,” he said, not even caring that the brownie batter on Tyler’s cheek was now smeared onto his tee shirt. 

“How is your brother?” Tyler asked, not really caring about the answer but knowing that he was supposed to ask. Jordie shrugged. 

“The usual,” he said, “still meeting with his therapist, he’s back at that anger management support group too now.” 

Tyler hummed, pleased that Jordie still hadn’t let go of him. Jamie had tried to clean his act up so that he would be able to get visitation with Georgia, but Tyler still didn’t trust him. He always tried to lavish Georgia with excess gifts. He didn’t know how to interact with a child or show affection for her, except through material objects. Tyler was pretty sure that he was also hurt that Georgia had decided she liked Uncle Jordie better than Uncle Jamie. 

Hell, Georgia liked all of her uncles better than “Uncle” Jamie. Not that Jamie’s inability to interact with children was Tyler’s problem. After five and a half years, Tyler’s anger and resentment towards Jamie had lessened. He hadn’t fully forgiven the man for what he had put him through, but he had accepted him as Georgia’s biological father, and the captain of their hockey team. Rumor was Jamie was getting ready to retire, his hips not holding up despite multiple surgeries.

“Daddy!” Georgia screeched, after dumping all of her Build-a-Bear clothes onto the floor, “is Uncle Jordie having pizza too?” 

Tyler sighed and pulled away from Jordie’s embrace. “You staying for pizza?” he asked. Jordie shrugged, 

“If you’ll have me,” he said with a cheeky grin. Tyler resisted the urge to swat his ass as they trekked into the living room. 

“Is that Miss. Carolina?” Jordie asked, sitting down on the floor with Georgia as Tyler pulled up the Papa John’s website on his laptop. He made the executive decision to get breadsticks. 

“Yep,” Said Georgia, popping the p. She held up the golden retriever stuffed animal for Jordie to see. “This is her favorite outfit,” Georgia explained. 

The stuffed dog was wearing a pink tutu and a green Dallas Stars Jersey with a 91 and Seguin written across the back. 

“I didn’t know Build-a-Bear made your daddy’s jersey,” Jordie said and Georgia grinned. 

“You can make the jersey’s say what ever you want!” she explained, “and I got daddy’s number so we could match.” 

Jordie smiled knowing how proud Georgia was of her dad. Tyler usually had a hard time getting her to wear something that wasn’t a Seguin jersey. 

The one and only time Tyler had ever gotten called to Georgia’s school had been her second week of kindergarten. One of the boys in her class had told Georgia that girls couldn’t like hockey. Georgia had then explained to the boy that she could because Tyler was her daddy, and even if he wasn’t girls could still like hockey. 

Things had escalated, and next thing Tyler knew he was sitting in Georgia’s teacher’s classroom feeling like he was totally under qualified to be a parent. Apparently laughing when finding out that your daughter had punched a boy wasn’t the right reaction.

It ended up working out though; Camden was her best friend now. They played on the same mini mite hockey team, and Tyler got all the street cred as a real live NHL player but also the team’s assistant coach. 

Tyler shut his laptop, interrupting Georgia telling Jamie all about how hard it was to decide between Miss. Carolina the stuffed puppy and Mr. Arkansas the kitten. 

Tyler smiled. Ever since Georgia had found out that Georgia was also the name of a state in the US she had become obsessed with naming everything after other states so that they could match. Hence Miss. Carolina and the puppy she got for her fifth birthday being named Indiana. 

The oven beeped and Tyler pulled himself off the couch to go check on the brownies. He glanced back as he did, unable to keep the smile off his face as he looked at his daughter. 

She was animatedly telling Jordie all about how Kate, her nanny when Tyler was on the road, was going to help her make more special outfits for her Build-a-bears, and how hockey was going to start soon, and that she wanted to try playing goalie but that stressed her daddy out, and how her and Camden were in the same class at school.

She was excited for Tyler’s hockey season to start because that meant that all her aunts and uncles would be around again and she loved Uncle Sharpy and Aunt Abby but she had missed Uncle Jordie and Uncle Spezza and Mr. Lindy. She leaned in close to Jordie as if to share a secret and told him that her Uncle Marchy was even going to take her out for ice cream the next time he was in Dallas. Tyler’s smile grew and the oven beeped again. 

He sighed and tore his eyes away from his daughter and Jordie and took the brownies out of the oven. He set them on the counter and the dogs scurried over interested in the fact that there was now food around. Tyler shook his head.

“Not for puppies,” he said but tossed each of them a dog biscuit instead. 

He went back into the living room and sat down on the floor, the dogs chasing after him. 

“Pizza should be here in half an hour,” Tyler informed them. 

When he was twenty-three he never expected that five years later he would still be playing in Dallas, or that he would have helped win his second and third Stanley cup, or that he would have even won an Olympic gold medal. But at the end of the day, Tyler would have given all those things up for Georgia. He never thought that he would be a single parent, or have a five year old before he was thirty, but Tyler wouldn’t change any of it for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you so much for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> ******SPOILERS******
> 
> This story contains mpreg. It is not fully confirmed into much further into the story, however, breadcrumb clues are left throughout. 
> 
> As mentioned above, this story also contains mention to Patrick Kane, however as of current he does not actually appear in the story.


End file.
